


Like Dreamers Do

by Jmetropolis



Series: You're the One [6]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Adopted Children, Aged-Up Character(s), Airplanes, Airports, Attempted Sex, Autumn, Awkward Sexual Situations, Babies, Bad Jokes, Bad Puns, Blow Jobs, Butt Dialing, Caretaking, Childhood Friends, Closeted Character, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Coitus Interruptus, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dangerous exercise equipment, Doctor Midorima, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Dinners, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Future Fic, Healthy Relationships, Humor, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, In-Laws, Language of Flowers, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sex, Medical Device, Medicine, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Movie Night, Old Friends, Overhearing Sex, Oversharing, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Piano, Pizza, Reminiscing, Requited Love, Sex, Sexual Content, Siblings, Sickfic, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, Toddlers, Travel, True Love, Wedding Planning, Wedding Rings, Wordcount: Over 50.000, dad jokes, fall - Freeform, selfie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:58:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmetropolis/pseuds/Jmetropolis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Autumn changes leaves and several relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Magic Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takao and Midorima do date night, sort of.

Takao could count on one finger the number of movies they had been able to finish since they had become parents. And he wasn't even talking about going to the theater. He couldn't even remember the last time he sat in one of those red, plushy chairs (fighting with Shin-chan to raise the armrest between them) or paid upwards of 2,000 yen for a tub of generously buttered popcorn. He really missed that salty treat, even if Dr. Shin-chan always got on his case about boring, adult, medical things like cholesterol and clogged arteries afterwards. 

What Takao meant was that they hadn't seen the ending credits of a single feature-length film  _at home_ (or anywhere else for that matter) in over a year. So he was understandably excited that they would be spending tonight watching one together. 

Truthfully, they hadn't been big moviegoers even before the kiddos came along. They had widely divergent tastes and Shin-chan tended to lose interest quickly and doze off (though to be fair, that had been a common occurrence mostly when the tsundere was a sleep-deprived med student or during his residency when he had been working round the clock and earning peanuts). Back then, they had been living in their old apartment and the television in their living room had been Kazunari’s intimate friend and close companion since it often kept him company while he tried not to fall asleep on the couch waiting for Shin-chan to come home. 

If Takao had wanted to go out tonight, they could've gotten a sitter (either one of their sisters would've come over and watched the tots while Takao and his husband caught the latest blockbuster and maybe even grabbed a bite to eat afterwards). Kazumi especially had a blank social calendar, of late. She would've gladly come over just so she could raid Shin-chan's not-so-secret stash of fine Belgium chocolates (Shin-chan liked to pretend he was a stickler for nutrition, but Takao knew better. Shin-chan had a sweet tooth. He  _loved_ shiruko, after all).

The point being that if Takao had wanted to go out tonight, there would've been no impediment to painting the town red with his favorite Miracle. But he hadn't wanted to go anywhere because  _someone_  was recovering from a bout of the sniffles.

 _Are you sure you don't want me to watch the kids?_  His sister had asked when they spoke on the phone earlier. 

 _I don't know sis. He's been really fussy all day. Like, extra fussy,_  Takao had responded. 

 _Who? Shintarō?_  She'd said in a what-else-is-new tone of voice.

_No, the baby._

Kichiro had woken up twice earlier when Takao had put him to bed for his mid-afternoon nap. And while either one of their sisters would've been more than capable of handling life's little tearful eruptions, Takao didn't want to leave his son when the tot wasn't feeling particularly great and Papa was so very good at soothing him.  

Perhaps it was the prospect of spending time together, but Shin-chan was in an extraordinarily good mood tonight. He’d been that way since he got home earlier in the evening from his job at the hospital. He had even let Kazunari order pizza for dinner. Of course, they still had to eat it off of fine bone china, with full place settings, at the dining room table “like civilized human beings and not troglodytes," as Shin-chan had so eloquently put it when the hawkeye had suggested they eat on the bed and get the show started already. 

Even under the stuffy confines of their formal dining room, it was  _pizza_  and Takao had enjoyed every last bite. Shin-chan had too, even if he refused to acknowledge such universal truths like pizza being the world's most perfect food (next to kimchi, of course).

Takao’s assertions notwithstanding, it was  _not_  a hit with everyone at the table, or rather the highchair. Keiko had eyed her slice skeptically, sniffed at it suspiciously, picked all of the mushrooms off, before taking three, toddler-sized bites. She quickly decided it wasn't for her and threw it back onto her melamine Ketty-chan plate, preferring instead to run off to play with her dolls while Papa finished what was left of it for her.

And the smallest member of their family had none. While Kichiro was proud of all four of his teeth (smiling often and displaying them grandly), he was still too young for such glorious gastronomic wonders as pizza. Instead, Shin-chan had propped him up in his highchair and spoon-fed him organic, pureed peas. Daddy was a firm believer in natural, home-made baby food even if he was physically incapable of making any himself and Papa did all the cooking, steaming, and mashing up.

A lavender scented bath, two readings of  _Three Billy Goats Gruff_  (a well-worn Japanese translation brought back from Grandma Midorima’s Scandinavian cruise) later and the children were blissfully asleep in their respective beds. 

###

Takao and Midorima didn’t have a television in their bedroom. No need to guess whose idea that was. Takao would have a TV in every room, if he had his way. But Shin-chan thought televisions were bad feng shui in a room that was meant for sleeping, relaxation and other, more amorous pursuits.

Takao was all for multi-purpose bedrooms, especially more of that third option, so he hadn't bucked Shin-chan too badly on his crazy notions about appropriate and inappropriate boudoir electronics. Takao kept mum on how Shin-chan’s replacement work tablet - - now safely framed in a child-proof case - - seemed to permanently reside on the neurosurgeon’s nightstand. Besides, Dr. Killjoy's boob tube ban didn’t extend to other rooms in their home like the living room, Takao’s office (he legitimately needed one to review game footage for work), the kitchen, and a few other spots.

They were in the larger of their two guestrooms. The one Kuroko and Kagami liked to use whenever they slept over. 

The hawkeye settled in for the long haul, placing on the night table his cell phone and the two baby monitors he'd brought with him. The bedrooms in their spacious abode were spread out; he and Shin-chan might not be able to hear the children otherwise.

“Shin-chan. Aren’t you going to change?” he asked when he finally joined his husband on the bed. 

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Midorima snapped, annoyed by Takao’s question.

“Nothing. Just thought you’d be more comfortable in something less . . . business-like that’s all.”

Midorima was wearing a long-sleeved oxford (buttoned all the way to the top), twill slacks, and a pair of argyle socks. Takao was wearing sweatpants and an undershirt he’d nicked from Shin-chan’s side of the closet. Somehow the hawkeye made the outfit work and Shintarō's gaze lingered, despite himself. Takao's sharp eyes didn't miss a thing and the Scorpio started to laugh. 

Hoping to cut off what would surely become an inane string of chortles at his expense, Shintarō spoke up. “In my line of work, my business attire is held up by drawstrings.”

This was only partially true. While Midorima wore a full surgical gown in the operating room and scrubs during his rounds, he was most definitely  _not_  the type of doctor who wore this vocational get-up outside the hospital. Barring some unfortunate, unforeseen workplace accident, Midorima wouldn't be caught dead in that sea foam green ensemble. He often stared with derision at colleagues who donned theirs to go to the grocery store, the post office or, even worse, the gym. Midorima Shintarō was the type of doctor who wore his surgical scrubs only when strictly necessary. Thus, on days when he solely had consultations, he wore a three-piece suit to the office, like a respectable gentleman. But Takao got his drift. “Touché, Shin-chan. Touché.”

“What French nonsense are you sprouting? Get settled in already.”

Shin-chan let Takao pick the flick which in Takao's estimation was a good thing because knowing Shin-chan he’d choose something boring and educational like a documentary on the Meiji period or the history of clay teapots. Takao scrolled aimlessly through the seemingly endless sea of titles on the screen - - the sheer number of options was overwhelming. He was old enough to remember going to the video store with his dad and how he and his sister used to fight over which anime they wanted to rent. Now, he didn't even need to leave the house to rent a movie. But having so many options at his fingertips made things harder, not easier. He finally (after several impatient grunts and not-so-subtle grumblings from Shin-chan) settled on a movie he’d wanted to see three years ago when it came out, but never got around to it.

Kise, on the other hand, had watched this particular flick more than twenty times, owned two DVDs of it, had an autographed poster signed by all the cast members and had not only copied all the dance moves, but had recreated them for Kazunari in a demonstration the hawkeye wished he could unsee or, at the very least, wished Shin-chan had been present to witness because the scandalized expressions on his prudish husband’s bespectacled visage would’ve been hilarious (and totally worth the cornea searing images of Kise Ryōta’s pelvic pulsations). The look on Shin-chan’s flushed face would’ve been priceless.

Takao’s meandering thoughts came to a sudden stop when Midorima hit him over the head with a tiger-striped pillow. Their decorator had taken creative liberties with the room's décor. "What are you snickering about, idiot? Pay attention, the movie's about to start." 

Despite having just assaulted his spouse with an overstuffed, animal print cushion, Shin-chan was in an extremely good mood. Takao could tell because there was the barest whisper of a smile on lips he knew so well. Shin-chan had the day off tomorrow. The resulting joy Takao felt because of it was palpable. They could stay up as late as they wanted. The hawkeye felt like jumping on the bed in celebration, a move that would've surely earned him another pillow to the pate. 

The opening scene played on their widescreen and Shintarō sounded less than amused when he said, “We’re watching a movie about strippers?”

“Not just strippers, Shin-chan.  _Male_  strippers.”

“We’re watching an AV?!” That wasn’t excitement in Midorima’s voice, that was panic. Takao had to bite his lip to keep a straight face. He struggled not to smirk as he recalled all those times he had to convince his then pure-as-the-driven-snow boyfriend to watch those kinds of videos with him claiming they were strictly for “informational” and “instructional” purposes only. Perhaps the hawkeye had overdone it, pulled that card out one too many times because Midorima was starting to look twitchy.

“Relax, Shin-chan. It’s not an AV. It’s just a regular ol’ movie.” Takao rubbed his husband’s arm, trying to placate him. “It’s practically a true story. Think of it as a documentary. Besides, Kise likes it.”

Midorima rolled his eyes, “Well if  _Kise_  likes it,” he said in a tone that suggested he put no stock into any recommendations from one Kise Ryōta.

They made it as far as the part where the title character discovered something important and plot driven, meaning he was shaking his sequenced caboose on stage in front of a gaggle of hysterical (Midorima meant that in the Victorian sense) women who had an apparently urgent need to rid themselves of paper currency by stuffing it into what apparently passed for undergarments these days when one of the baby monitors went off for the first time that night.

Seeing as Takao’s riveted eyes were glued to their flat-screen, high-definition television, Midorima got up to go check on their little one. He actually welcomed the distraction, he was beginning to question Takao’s assurances that there was a story line somewhere in all those scantily clad hip gyrations. And while Midorima could see the attraction in those frolicking paradigms of aesthetically pleasing male physiques, he preferred his titillation a little closer to home.

He thought of dark hair and sharp, blue eyes and the sinful smile he so often saw on the only man he’d ever fantasize about. It also didn't hurt that Takao Kazunari could shake his rump like the best of them and had sculpted abs that were defined and toned and capable of doing back flips that made Shintarō's own heart want to do the samba. 

###

Midorima made his way to the nursery on the bay side of the penthouse. What a difference a year made, he thought as he approached the crib. A year ago a sick infant would've filled his heart with terror. To Midorima's medically trained mind every sneeze could turn into pneumonia and every cough could be the croup. Midorima's specialty was neurosurgery, not pediatrics, but that didn't keep his imagination from running wild.

A year ago, Midorima would've brought the baby back to their room, because he'd be incapacitated by infant squalls and he'd need Kazu's much more advanced childcare skills to expertly calm Kichiro down. A year ago, Midorima wouldn't have been nearly as adept at checking in on their son, making sure he didn't have an empty tummy or a full diaper and lulling him back to sleep in record time in the glider near the window. 

###

Midorima made it back to the guestroom and although Takao had offered to rewind the movie (and replay the dance numbers in slow motion), he really hadn't missed much. 

Sometime afterward, Takao's phone buzzed and the hawkeye chuckled when he read the text message. Shin-chan growled as he halted the movie. "Put that thing away. And tell that idiot Ryōta to stop texting. He should be minding the plane."

"Ppffft. Shin-chan you can't send texts from an airplane. There are  _laws_. Besides, how do you even know it's Kise, huh?" he asked, playfully poking Shin-chan's frowny face just because he could. 

Midorima started listing all the reasons why it was most likely Kise. “It's too late for your parents to call. Your sister's probably watching that ambush make-over marathon she's obsessed with on Channel Six. It can't possibly be Kuroko. That idiot redhead just got home after a three-day shift at the fire station. They're probably doing all manner of unspeakable things to each other right now.” Shin-chan visibly recoiled at the thought. “I suppose it could be another one of your infuriating acquaintances, but odds are --"

Midorima scowled deeper when he noticed Takao had stopped paying attention to him and was snickering into his phone. "Oi!"

Kazunari didn't even flinch at Shintarō's outburst, he was beyond used to living with his tsundere. "He's not on a plane. Kise just got home from a date. He wants to come over."

"No." And then, because that response didn't accurately convey the intensity of his feelings, he amended his answer, " _Hell_  no."

“Aww, C’mon, Shin-chan. He’s not so bad.” 

“Inviting Kise Ryōta over is the equivalent of putting a screen door on a submarine. A preposterous idea and one that could easily result in loss of life, mainly his.”

"Midorimacchi's so mean."

The tsundere balked. Takao had just protested in a perfect imitation of the copycat former model. 

"Y-you sound exactly like him," he said horrified, though he really shouldn't have been so surprised. Kazunari could still do a wickedly good impersonation of Midorima himself all these years later; if anything, he'd gotten even better at imitating his light. 

"Nah. That  _was_  him. I was just playing back his voice text for you out loud. We’re using Line," Takao said proudly.

"Give me that." Midorima snatched the mobile out of Takao's hand, texted "Go Die!!!" and slammed the damnable electronic face down on the nightstand on his side of the bed. 

Which reminded him, “Was it a date with a woman?”

“Yup.”

“Humph. That's absurd. He's as straight as a lightning bolt.”

"Shin-chan,"

"Hmm?"

"You can't say anything to him, okay?"

"Why not?"

"Because it's his choice whether he wants to tell us or not."

"Well, I think it's ridiculous that a grown man will go through such farcical lengths to protect an obvious lie all because he's afraid of what his family and delusional fans will think of him."

It wasn't that Midorima expected Kise to shout it from the rooftops. Midorima himself never went around telling people he was sexually attracted to men. After all, straight men didn't go around declaring their love of women. Well,  _most_  straight men (Momoi had beaten the lion's share of idiocy out of Aomine before they'd started dating and that was probably the main reason it took so long for them to get together in the first place).

It was just that the older Shintarō got, the less he cared about what people thought of him. And so the issue of Takao which in undergrad had been summed up in one word "roommate" to everyone but their closest friends and Takao's family gradually became "boyfriend" to everyone but Midorima's parents. By the end of his second year of medical school even they knew and then there was no one left to hide it from.

Midorima didn't come out to his parents by choice, his hand had been forced, but he didn't regret it. Even in that brief black period of his life when he wasn't sure if his name was still on the family registry or if it had been etched out, he didn't regret it. How could he, went it brought words like "fiancé" and "husband" into his life and years later the word "Papa" was introduced through the advent of children.   

"Yeah, well some people aren't very accepting of alternative lifestyles, or whatever." Takao didn't need the reminder that Shin-chan's own parents hadn't been so understanding of their own relationship, though they eventually came around to it after a heap of grief, buckets of drama and all around douchebaggery. 

"What alternative lifestyle?" Midorima groused. "We're the most normal people I know."

Takao laughed at Shin-chan's observation. "That's cause we know a lot of weird people, starting with your middle school teammates."

"Even so, we're married, we both have jobs, we have two children, and an apartment in the city." Midorima recounted on knobby, musician's fingers. "It doesn't get much more conventional than that."

Takao could concede that his husband had a point. Other than being a same-sex couple and perhaps more than a tad on the affluent side, they were a pretty normal family. Shin-chan was a doctor and Takao was practically a stay-at-home father save for the occasional sports column he wrote for his weekly publication.

"Still, Shin-chan. It's Kise's decision whether he wants to live openly."

"Fine. I won't mention it," Midorima grumbled. "But I still think he's ridiculous." He pressed the play button on the remote control. “Now, I think we left off here."

###    

As the movie continued, Shintarō found himself questioning the wisdom of allowing Kazunari to choose the film when he heard grunting noises incongruous with what was happening on screen at the time.

It took Midorima a moment to realize that those obscene sounds he was hearing weren’t coming from the television. They were coming from Takao’s phone beside him.

"Harder, Kagami-kun. Just like that.  _Hnng_. Don't stop." It was clearly a butt-dial, though by the sounds of it, it must've been a bare butt dial. 

 _Kagami-kun?_ Takao mouthed. _He calls him that in bed too?_  

Shintarō's response to Takao's valid, yet unvoiced question was a big ol' shrug. He honestly couldn't care less about their friends' sex lives.

Takao took his phone back and instead of turning it off he continued to listen with morbid fascination at the groans, moans, and occasional "Kagami-kuns" that were coming in through the speaker.

"Oh Fuck. Tetsu, I'm gonna - -"

"Give me that," Midorima snapped as he snatched the phone. He took the battery (and the fun) out of the offending device. 

Having had more than enough of their idiot friends for the night, he held the now disabled device between his index finger and his thumb, like it was a dead rodent, then he flung it across the room and into the empty wastepaper basket in the adjoining,  _en suite_  bathroom with the kind of pinpoint accuracy only the Generation of Miracles’ top shooter could’ve possessed (all while still laying down on the bed mind you).

Takao would’ve been impressed, except he already knew what Shin-chan’s magic hands were capable of. It wasn't piano études, three-point shots from half-court seconds before the buzzer, or even life-saving surgical maneuvers that came to mind. It was Shūtoku's locker room after practice, crisp winter mornings before classes at uni, their honeymoon in Paris, the other day at dawn break following an all-night shift at the hospital, and countless other encounters. To be honest, Takao was more than a little turned on at the moment. 

A younger Midorima may have gotten all flustered and nervous about even the prospect of AV footage, but that was then, this was now. Shin-chan was all grown up now and Takao was looking at him like he was something edible.

Shintarō leaned over and kissed his spouse. And then he did it again, this time hitting the pause button on the remote. And a third time so thoroughly Takao felt like his head was spinning. 

Kazunari wasn’t the only one who knew how to get his significant other all dithered. “Sh-Shin-chan, wha-what was that for?” he inquired of the kiss through stilted breath.

“Because I felt like it.”

"Oh, Shin-chan." 

Midorima was a lot more honest when they were alone together. It took  _years_  of cajoling for Takao to get him to talk like this and even now it didn't happen often enough. No one else got to witness this side of Midorima Shintarō and it was consequently one of Kazunari's biggest turn ons.  _Oh fuck_ , Takao's brain was going to short circuit because Shin-chan wasn't done yet. 

They hadn't always been like this. They had come a long way since their initial, late-night fumblings in Shin-chan’s old bedroom at his parents' house. The threat of getting caught in Takao’s room had been too imminent for even a risk-taker like Kazunari to ignore.

Even back then Takao had had it on good authority that he was a phenomenal kisser. He’d earned the nickname high spec kareshi, after all. He’d kissed mostly girls before Shin-chan and gotten loads of compliments. And while Takao’s range of experiences had been somewhat limited, Shin-chan’s had been a blank slate.

Takao could easily recall the first time their lips met, too wet and too much teeth. But once the tsundere had gotten over his initial, self-conscious awkwardness, damned if Kazunari's knees hadn't buckled under the weight of the earnest enthusiasm with which Midorima Shintarō first kissed him. 

"Because we’re no longer brats, making out in the locker room after practice, worried we’ll get caught by the upperclassmen.”

Shin-chan’s reference to their old high school reminded Takao vaguely of pineapples, but only briefly because his brain got all scrambled when Shin-chan kissed him senseless like this. 

“Because I can." 

And then, Kazunari wasn’t thinking much of anything except how incredibly sexy and deliciously forceful Shin-chan’s lips and tongue could be when they ravaged his mouth. Takao fisted his fingers in Shin-chan’s hair and tugged him forward. He didn’t stop until he had Shin-chan’s weight on top of him and even then he wasn’t satisfied. He wanted more.     

Takao’s clever fingers made quick work of Shin-chan’s oppressive shirt. He’d undone all the buttons and loosened the belt buckle by the time Midorima paused to take a breath. “Kazu.” he said panting. “If we’re going to continue along this vein,” he planted a quick, encouraging kiss on his lover’s neck before continuing, “we need to retire to our bedroom.”

“Whatever for Shin-chan?” The hawkeye inquired with studied innocence.

Midorima cursed under his breath, which only served to make Takao even more hot and bothered. “We need supplies.”

‘Supplies’ was Shin-chan’s euphemism for lube because really, they didn’t need anything else in years.

Takao leaned over Shin-chan and pulled open the top drawer of the nightstand. “We’ve got some right here.”

Shintarō turned to look in Takao’s direction and saw an assortment of colorful things he’d only ever seen in Takao’s AV videos.

For a moment, he was confused as to what these strange, silicone rubber contraptions were doing in his home, until Takao very gingerly pulled the one item among the others that would be of any use to them.

“Vanilla milkshake flavored lubri –-” Midorima stopped himself. “Ww-hat is all this doing in here?” He sputtered. And when he suddenly realized the answer to his own question, he jumped off the duvet like it was covered in spiders.

“Shin-chan,” Takao laughed. "Come back." 

"It's unsightly," Midorima complained of the open drawer.

“What did you think they do in here when they sleep over? Play clapping games?” On occasion, Kuroko and Kagami would miss the last train and spend the night, much to Shintarō's chagrin.

“Well, I certainly didn’t think they’d leave the contents of a well-stocked adult superstore behind.”

Takao coaxed his skittish husband back onto the bed with multiple reassurances. “Look, its freshly laundered,” he said patting the bed linens. “Besides, they haven’t slept here in weeks." In the past fortnight, their friends had been playing host to Kagami's father and new stepmother.

"Kagami's dad just went back to America," Takao reminded him. It was the reason Kagami had to pick up so many shifts lately, to make up for the time he took off.

"Yeah, so?"

"So Kuroko didn't want his boyfriend's father finding anything weird in their apartment while he was staying with them."

"So _I_  have to find it?" 

"You know how fucked up Kagami's dad can be. He made his son move to Japan, where Taiga hardly knew anyone, because he thought L.A. was 'turning' his son gay."

"Well that's preposterous." 

"Shin-chan, the old man is finally coming around to accepting that his son is in a relationship, a pretty serious one. And Kuroko didn't want to scare him away, feed into the guy's odd stereotypes, if he found all this stuff."

"Well, Kuroko didn't have to turn our home into a filthy storage unit." Midorima muttered. "He could've - -"

"Kuroko said he'd collect his stuff tomorrow." Takao interrupted. "He thinks this might be it," he added cheerfully. Kuroko and Kagami had been a couple longer than any of their friends. If anyone should've been married first, it should've been them.

It would've been so easy for their friends to have tied the knot on any one of their numerous trips to L.A. (Takao and Shin-chan had had to jump through a rigmarole of legal hoops for their own international nuptials). But the redhead had wanted his father's approval and so Serin's shadow and light had sort of been waiting all this time. Kuroko, Takao thought, was a patient man. He would've made Shin-chan get hitched already if he were in his friend's shoes.

Midorima was still focused on the drawer of unmentionables. Kazunari closed it. "I’ll go to our room and get our own lube." He didn't want the mood to get too far away from them and the quicker he could assuage Shin-chan's germaphobic nature, the sooner they could get back to where they'd left off.

"And wash your hands," Midorima called out. "I can't  _believe_  you touched that bottle after it's been contaminated by Kuroko and Kagami's --  _Ugh_. I'm going to incinerate this drawer."

"Anything else my ace-sama?" Takao asked still drying his freshly washed hands on his sweatpants when he returned quick as a wink from his sojourn to the other side of the penthouse. He tossed their own bottle of personal lubricant onto the bed, wriggled his bottom suggestively and prepared to blow Shin-chan's mind. 

###

_Ten minutes later . . ._

"Are you alright?"

"You kicked me in the face."

"I said I was sorry." 

"You knocked my glasses off."

"It was an accident. Shin-chan, come back to bed."

### 

Midorima groaned, but not in the way he had been doing moments earlier.

“It’s like he’s timing it or something,” he said of the angry squalls coming from the baby monitor. 

That Kichiro would wake up in the middle of the night was entirely expected. He wasn’t feeling well after all. His father was merely expressing his selfish request that the infant have done it earlier or much, much later. Anytime but now. “I’ll get him,” he said.

“Shin-chan, let me. Stay here and clean up. You’re going to need a moment,” Takao said as he put things back in order, looking wistfully at Midorima’s untucked and unbuttoned shirt revealing washboard abs and a trail of faint hair leading down to the unmistakable curvature in Shin-chan’s hastily repositioned and previously flat-front dress pants.

Takao bit his lower lip.  _Damn_. Those strippers that had been frozen on their television screen for the better part of an hour didn’t have anything on his hot husband. The former ace looked like a scene out one of those AVs they weren’t watching. 

Shin-chan had definitely been the more disheveled of the two of them, but that didn’t mean it was easy for Kazunari to peel himself away. Still, he’d yet to discover a more effective mood killer than the wails of an infant coming in through the baby monitor, it was instantaneous.

###

Takao was a self-professed baby-whisperer. He was an old pro at this  _now_.  But he hadn’t always been that way. He remembered their first few months as a family and how he had especially hated the nights when Shin-chan had been on call and one or both children were sick. Kazunari had felt useless and Shin-chan had been even worse, calling twenty times a night for an update on the kids.

Now, he and Shin-chan no longer fretted over a runny nose or a simple rash. Common childhood ailments no longer terrorized them. Kichiro had a head cold; that was all. Something that was easily managed with children’s medicine and some vapor to loosen up the phlegm. Kazunari had done that earlier. He’d taken his son into the master bathroom and sat with him just outside the splash zone of their large, walk through shower as he ran the water on the hottest temperature possible until he got a continuous fog of steam going.

Kazunari returned to the guestroom sometime later with a visibly unhappy infant. “Here,” he said to Shintarō. “You hold him. I’m going to get him a bottle.”

“What took you so long?” Midorima asked as he extended his arms for the baby.

“Pureed peas.”  

“Oh.” Midorima had fed Kichiro pureed peas for the first time at dinner and while he and Takao had yet to find a food their infant didn't like (other than Shin-chan's cooking), it hadn't exactly agreed with their tot's developing tummy.  

Kichiro looked miserable, though he had quieted down. His eyes were red from crying and he had a runny nose. Daddy tried to wipe it with the burp cloth Papa had given him, but the tired infant would have none of that.

Shintarō nuzzled his son’s downy, baby fine dark hair. It was coming in in wisps, but mostly at the back of his head just above the nape. It reminded Shintarō of the tail on a duckling. He took his son’s temperature by pressing a kiss onto his baby’s forehead.

Kichiro felt warm, but he’d also been sleeping and moments earlier he’d been crying. Both factors could temporarily raise an otherwise normal body temperature. Their son had had this head cold for exactly two and a half days, but so far he'd been afebrile. Midorima was no longer the worrywart new father he used to be when they brought the children home, but he still wanted the extra assurance. “Bring the thermometer on your way back,” he called out to Kazu who'd just left the room. And because one could never been too careful, “also, my stethoscope.”  

###

Kazunari came back with a baby bottle filled with an oral electrolyte solution and the medical implements his husband had requested.

“Here, hold him for a moment.” Midorima said to his husband after Takao had placed the items on the nightstand. Kichiro who had been exhausted and well on his way to falling back asleep on Midorima's shoulder, didn't appreciate the jostling inherent in the exchange no matter how careful Daddy was being. He let his displeasure be known,  _loudly_.

"Stay still," Midorima said to Takao who was trying to quiet the baby with slow, rhythmic motion.

Takao had brought back both pediatric thermometers presumably because Midorima had not specified which one he'd wanted. The rectal thermometer would've given them the most accurate reading and normally Midorima would've strived for accuracy, but the baby was tired and fussy and so he opted for the tympanic one instead. He would resort to the other one only if Kichiro registered an elevated temperature.

Seconds later, and with minimal disruption to the baby, he got a perfectly normal reading which he communicated with a wordless nod to Takao who was watching him like a hawk.

Once the baby quieted down again, Midorima picked up the stethoscope. Kichiro had certainly treated them to a concert of wails, but Midorima wanted to have a closer listen to the infant's lungs. 

After putting the ear pieces in place, he blew hot breath on the bell ensuring the metal disc would not be too cold when he placed it on the baby's back. He rubbed the hand that wasn't holding the diaphragm against his shirt, the friction warming it up so that his fingers were not too cold when he lifted the hem of Kichiro's cotton pajama top with Kazunari's help.

He listened carefully to the baby's lungs and Kichiro even coughed a few times unprompted while Daddy pressed the bell against his skin, which was very helpful to Midorima's assessment. After he was satisfied with the acoustics, he placed a gentle kiss at the center of the baby's spine before removing the earpieces and pulling  Kichiro's shirt back into place.

"What?" he asked Kazunari who was staring at Midorima with a funny look on his face. Takao had watched the whole exchange thinking his husband was an amazing father, that he and the children were so very lucky to have him. But Takao was also not one to miss an opportunity to tease his husband. 

"Nothing Shin-chan," he said as he playfully tugged on the stethoscope's rubber tubing which was now hanging around Midorima's neck like a fox stole. "Think we could take this to bed with us later?" Takao asked as he continued to toy with the medical instrument.

A horrified Midorima covered Kichiro's small ears. "Not in front of the b-a-b-y," he chided.  

Kichiro who had quieted down a bit during his impromptu medical checkup, didn't appreciate having his ears covered and started crying again. 

"Now look what you've done," Midorima said to Kazunari over the wails. He then starting talking to the baby in Kazunari's arms in a very different tone than he'd used with his husband. 

Whenever Shin-chan talked to the children that way, it made Takao's insides feel all warm and fuzzy. Shin-chan didn't talk down to the children. He didn't coo the way Takao was sometimes guilty of doing when speaking to them (or to Nigō). But Shintarō's voice got noticeably softer. It was a gentle tone Takao only ever heard him use with their children.

Takao could easily pinpoint the first time he'd heard it. Kichiro had been three months old then, they had just brought him and his sister home a few weeks before and Takao had been up with him all night trying to sooth a terrible case of colic. Kazunari had woken up intermittently every few hours, every time the baby monitor went off.

By the time Midorima’s alarm clock went off for him to go to work, Takao had been so exhausted, he must've slept right through it and right through another bout of squalling because the next thing he heard coming through the crackle of the baby monitor wasn't the pained wails of a colicky infant, but the hushed, soothing tones of his husband who'd gotten up to go to work talking softly while their son babbled back. Takao had smiled into his pillow at the both of them, torn between the urge to sneak a peek and not wanting to further intrude on this father-son bonding moment.

Takao fed the baby his bottle, pushing fluids to stave off any possible dehydration from the pureed peas incident. Once Kichiro had finished his bottle, Takao tried pacing around the room while Kichiro continuing to wail in his ear. The baby was fine. He'd been changed and given a bottle and just needed a little help falling back asleep.

While Takao tried to get his son to do just that, the door that he'd left slightly ajar was pushed all the way open and in came the fourth member of the Midorima household, a seemingly somnambulant young miss with sleep rumpled hair and lines on the side of one her cherubic cheeks left behind by her dainty eyelet pillowcase. Keiko-chan went to Daddy's side of the bed because Keiko-chan  _always_  went to Shin-chan was he home, a beloved and well-worn Ketty-chan plush doll was tucked under her arm.

“Daddy!” She protested, even as she willingly allowed herself to be picked up and snuggled on the bed. "Sleepy," she pouted as Midorima cuddled with her.

"What's the matter, Princess?" He inquired of the sulky toddler. "Did Papa wake you up? Of course he did. I know. Papa's so noisy."

Never mind that Kichiro had been screaming at the top of his well-exercised lungs moments earlier.

“That’s just the way he is,” he told his little lamb in an assumed, teasing tone that implied years of long suffering. “It can’t be helped. It's just the way he is. Daddy's been putting up with Papa for --”

"Hey!" Takao protested, but only half-heartedly. Shin-chan was in a rare, teasing mood tonight and the hawkeye really didn’t want to discourage his husband.

Takao continued to pace with the baby around the sizable guestroom as Kichiro carried on with his teary-tirade, notwithstanding his sister's sleepy protests of "Stawp, Kichi-chan" as she burrowed next to Daddy.

It helped that this room had a view of the city and not the ocean which was pitch black at this hour, and so Takao was able to distract his cranky infant with the pretty, twinkling lights of the other skyscrapers nearby. And that was all Kichiro had needed really, a distraction from how miserable he felt so he could finally fall asleep again.

"Well. That wasn't _too_ bad," Takao said in a hushed tone, when he caught the sight of his son asleep on his shoulder reflected back at him from the floor-to-ceiling window. "Don't you think Shin-chan?"

"Shin-chan?" Kazunari turned around when he got no response. He saw his adorable husband and their even more adorable daughter sharing a pillow. They were both out like a light.

Kazunari carefully set the sleeping baby beside them. He reached over, brushed verdant bangs off Midorima's brow, leaving a kiss behind. Then he gingerly removed his husband's glasses and set them on the nightstand for Midorima to find in the morning. He settled in on the opposite side of the bed to sandwich the children between them.

Takao could count on one finger the number of movies they had been able to finish since they had become parents. And he was perfectly fine with that.  

* * *

**AN1:** This chapter was  _supposed_  to bewritten for the [Basketball Poet's Society's](http://basketballpoetsociety.tumblr.com/post/124806632998/like-dreamers-do) challenge No. 130: [Parents](http://basketballpoetsociety.tumblr.com/post/121478499743/challenge-no-130-parents). Of course, I didn't finish it on time because that's my m.o. when it comes to writing prompted fics. Thankfully, for BPS' last prompt ever, they have an [amnesty](http://basketballpoetsociety.tumblr.com/post/122646274693/challenge-no-00-amnesty-month) one which means you can submit any prompts you didn't finish on time. So here you go.

 **AN2:** I also made a [Shipping Meme](http://jmetmisc.tumblr.com/tagged/midotaka-shipping-meme) for the series if anyone's interested.   


	2. A Walk in the Park, a Roll in the Hay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The saying that doctors made terrible patients rang all too true to Kazunari's ears.

The baby was all better in a matter of days and back to his chipper, affable self. The baby's father was not so lucky.

"Want some more of my miso soup, Shin-chan?" 

"No," the man barked, his voice clearly affected by the congregation of phlegm in his throat. "I can't taste a thing. You might as well be offering me dishwater."

The saying that doctors made _terrible_ patients rang all too true to Kazunari's ears. Still, he couldn't stop smiling. His husband was home and Takao was pleased to spend time with him no matter the circumstances.

"Want me to fluff your pillow?" 

Midorima sighed the sigh of the mildly annoyed and thoroughly miserable. "If you insist." 

Having caught the sniffles from his son, Midorima had no choice but to stay home until he recovered fully. Some of the neurosurgeon’s patients had compromised immune systems, especially the post-op cases who couldn't afford to be needlessly exposed to pathogens. The workaholic tsundere wouldn't put his patients' health at risk and so he had no choice but to stay home for the duration of his illness. 

If Takao had one wish - - and he was perfectly aware that his was a charmed life and he had no business asking for more when he had been bestowed with so much already- - it would be for Shin-chan to spend more time at home.

Midorima Shintarō worked hard. He had worked hard his entire life and would continue to do so for the foreseeable future. It wasn't like Shin-chan was front loading the work now so he could take it easy in his later years. Midorima was poised to become medical chief when the time came. Everyone knew this -- the other doctors, the nurses, the staff. Early on, Shin-chan's boss had taken a special interest in grooming his protégé. To top it all off, Shin-chan had gotten a taste for medical research when his paper was published this year in a peer-reviewed medical journal and had been widely received.

It had certainly gotten Akashi's attention. After the shogi prodigy's mother got sick, he had wanted his childhood friend and former vice-captain to oversee the team of expert physicians the little emperor had hand-selected for her treatment. It was an arrangement the hawkeye wasn't particularly thrilled about, but one he lived with. He knew better than to make a big fuss about it. He was however hellbent on accompanying his spouse on any bullet trains to Kyoto. Not because he doubted his husband, but because he trusted Akashi as far as his hawkeye could see him.

Takao had done the math and had calculated that the current Chief of Medicine would be retiring around the time their youngest would be heading off to college. Even now, with Kichi-chan reassuringly still drooling and babbling most of his words, the thought of his children growing up much too fast filled Kazunari's heart with a pang of wistful sadness.

Around the time Takao would surely be in the throes of severe empty nest syndrome, his husband would be taking on additional responsibilities at his already taxing job. Still, Takao couldn't bring himself to intercede by asking Shin-chan to work less or choose a more leisurely career path. He knew Midorima valued his job and he was exceptionally good at it. Takao would just have to make do with the time he had with his husband.

It wouldn't be the first time the hawkeye sacrificed things for the ones he loved. Kazunari had had a bustling career as a sports writer that for all intents and purposes had been sidelined, at least until the children were school-age. Takao had tried to broach the subject of pre-school, but Shin-chan wouldn't have it. Even when the kids were old enough to go to school, there would be bento lunches to pack (Takao needed to get started on learning to make really good ones if he wanted to show up all the other parents), sports clubs and PTA meetings to attend, and field trips to chaperon. In the meantime, he wrote his column, updating it whenever he could find the time. 

"I can hardly breathe," Midorima complained.

"Here," Takao said handing him the box of tissues they kept on the nightstand for cleanup purposes. Shintarō blew his nose, then crumpled the thin sheet into a ball and made a high-arched shot that landed in the wastepaper basket clear across the master bedroom, as could be expected from the Generation of Miracle's leading scorer. Shin-chan still held the school records at Shūtoku for most points ever made by a single player and in a single game.  

"Why are you smiling at me?"

"I'm just glad you're home. That's all."

"Fool," Shintarō called him, but it didn't hold any bite. None at all, what with the exasperated teeny tiny simper on the former shooting guard's lips. "What am I going to do with you?" He stretched his arm out and caressed the side of Kazunari's face.  

"Hey, Shin-chan?" Takao said leaning into the touch, then reaching for the buttons on his husband's nightshirt. 

"What?" 

"Want me to apply vapor rub on your chest while the kids take their nap?"

Midorima pretended to consider the offer for a moment. "If you insist." 

###

Occasionally, Takao was reminded of the socio-economic disparity embedded in their respective upbringings. Admittedly, those occasions had grown fewer and farther in between in the passing years as the hawkeye grew desensitized to the largess that was concomitant with his husband's family.

The longer he shared the same auspicious roof with one Midorima Shintarō, the more normal it all seemed. These days Takao no longer batted an eye at the fact that their bank balance had more digits than their account number or that their monthly household budget was apparently generous enough to accommodate such bare essentials as an enormous Murano glass chandelier for the genkan.

Shin-chan usually consulted him on big purchases, but not always. There had been past exceptions, as the large chesterfield in Kazunari's home office could attest to. 

Takao found himself staring skeptically at the lucent depravity in their entryway. He didn't think it went with the rest of their home's tasteful décor, but what did he know. The decorator and Shin-chan were usually in cahoots when it came to these things. And while Takao had his reservations, his daughter had a different assessment. She adored the ornate fixture immediately. _Stars, Papa_ , she'd told him in awe after it had been installed and they turned on the sparkly lights for the first time. 

It had come in a crate,  _a crate_. Takao didn't think things got shipped in crates anymore, what with the invention of cardboard and whatnot. It had taken enough men to form a basketball team to bring it up the service elevator and into the entryway. Their doorman had even had to use one of those metal hooks to remove the nails and pry the lid open. Takao half expected to find a mummy sarcophagus in there when instead he'd found this. 

The worst part was that Shin-chan hadn't even told him he'd ordered something, much less asked him to sit at home and wait patiently all day for the parcel to turn up.

_Now? I can't come home now. I'm at the dealership._

_What do you mean what am I doing there? You're the one who said your car was making a clickety-clack sound. Which, by the way Shin-chan, it's totally not doing anymore. They're looking at me like I'm a crazy person. They're just humoring me here by taking a look under the hood, you know. Keiko-chan honey, don't touch that. It's dirty._

_Well, I guess I could ask for a loaner._  Takao had refused to admit he hadn't thought of that.  _Kichi-chan don't put that in your mouth. Okay, okay don't cry. Sorry Shin-chan, I gotta go._

That had been the extent of their phone conversation earlier that morning.

The whole ordeal had taken the better part of the day. At least this time, Takao hadn't done much of the heavy lifting. The building's maintenance man had come upstairs to help with the installation. But when his ladder proved too short to reach the high ceilings of the penthouse, he had to go back downstairs and borrow one from the gardener.

It wasn't just a matter of putting up the heavy light fixture, there were additional support holes that had to be drilled into the ceiling and there was the matter of hoisting the ostentatious medallion that had come with it. They had to call in the electrician to wire the whole thing and make sure it worked with the dimmer that was already on the wall. Finally, they had to get rid of the heavy wooden carcass that was the pried apart crate. 

Of course, the children had been fascinated by the whole affair watching with rapt attention as all these workmen came in and out of their home all day wielding all sorts of interesting tools that made resounding noises and buzzed loudly. All things considered, everything had run relatively smoothly on such short notice. At least they got the chandelier up and running before Daddy (who was allergic to messes) arrived.   

"I'm home," the doctor announced when he walked through the front door. And then seconds later, "What is that gaudy thing doing in our entryway?" he demanded. 

"Huh?" Takao had expected an exclamatory response from his husband, but not that one. He cringed. He could've sworn it was for the genkan, they already had a fancy light fixture in the dining room. He was afraid to ask. "Is it in the wrong spot?"

"It's in the wrong house."

"Come again."  

"It's not ours."

"What? But you said I had to come home right away to sign the delivery slip."

"I was referring to my brogues." Takao eyed the much smaller, brown paper package he'd received from the cobbler resting on the credenza. It had been delivered and signed for during the ruckus with the chandelier.  

Midorima stood at their entry way rifling through the paperwork that had come with the crystal monstrosity. Sure enough, the packing slip was addressed to Midorima Sazuna.

_Fuck._

###

Saturday afternoon rolled around and they were sitting in a booth at a child friendly joint Takao and the children knew well. Midorima had dined with his family there once or twice before, but otherwise didn't care for the tacky decor or the substandard fare. Inexplicably, his children adored this place. 

They were surrounded by bales of hay and life-sized fiberglass horses and cows and pigs and just about every other livestock you'd expect to find on a farm. The waitstaff, those poor hapless souls, were forced to wear unflattering denim overalls, poorly constructed straw hats, and ill-fitting checkered shirts. Some of them were even chewing on wheat stalks, which reminded Midorima of Murasakibara.

The employees, all of which looked like they were no older than twenty, were forced to greet patrons with the salutation of "Howdy." Every half hour -- with the kind of pinpoint precision you'd expect from a Japanese railway company, not a kids' restaurant -- the place exploded in song.

It was the same cartoon theme every time. The servers all had to stop what they were doing and sing along to the prerecorded tune that was blaring through the overhead loudspeakers. All the kids in the dining establishment knew the ditty by heart and jumped it. Invariably, some of the babies and younger kids, startled by the sudden loud noise, would burst into wails. That's when the truly terrifying troupe of adults in hamster costumes came around to the tables to greet the children and pose for pictures to the delight of cellphone brandishing parents. It was Midorima's version of hell. 

Predictably everything on the menu was shaped like a hamster. There was Hamster Hajime pizza and Hamster Hyuuga pancakes and so on and so forth. They were all apparently characters from a morning children's television show Keiko-chan and Kichi-chan watched religiously. Midorima was vaguely acquainted with the program, but Takao knew all the characters' names, sang the song, and answered all the trivia correctly on the back of his menu. The waitress had even brought him over a box of crayons as a prize. 

Kise, of course, was running late and so they went ahead and ordered for him. 

Takao had texted their friend to ask which brand of mineral water he'd like to drink. 

Midorima had texted their friend to say that if he didn't get his high-priced derrière here in the next five minutes, he could go die. _What kind of bizarre hobby was mineral water tasting anyway?_

By the time Ryōta arrived the waitress had already brought the food for the table and he was stuck with Hamster Hiro onion gratin soup that was as cold as Nigō's nose. 

"Get those chopsticks off my plate." Midorima slapped his husband's hovering, wooden eating utensil with his own. "If you had wanted Hamster Haruhisa sashimi, you should've ordered Hamster Haruhisa sashimi," he told the hawkeye. 

Uncle Ryōta was making airplane noises as he popped a spoonful of puréed pumpkin into Kichi-chan's awaiting mouth. Keiko-chan was making googly eyes at the pretty man beside her. Midorima, ever the vigilant father, was watching him like a hawk.

Keiko-chan was at that age where children typically fell in love with their fathers' ridiculously good looking, ex-model turned airline pilot friend. Consequently, their daughter was batting her eyelashes at an oblivious Uncle Ryōta.

Their little sprout, who had been eating solid foods for as long as they'd been a family, now leaned in her booster seat towards the handsome aviator and opened wide so she too could get in on the action. 

"She's very persnickety," Takao explained to their waitress who came by to refill their drinks and was probably wondering why the toddler hadn't touched her plate, but was eating all of her brother's homemade baby food. "She takes after Daddy."

When Shuzuko was a little girl, Takao used to joke that he was going to marry her and that Shin-chan would be their flower girl. The hawkeye had thought it was adorable that Shin-chan's little sister had had a crush on her brother's boyfriend. Midorima would have Kise skinned alive if he even deigned to make such a quip about marrying _his_ little girl.

The Kaijō alum was trying to tell his friends about an emergency landing he'd had to make on a flight back from Phuket. The conversation kept getting interrupted with Midorima making animal noises every time his son pointed to a nearby fiberglass farm animal. 

"What? It's ediyfing," the bespectabled doctor said defensively when his former middle school teammate gave him a raised, perfectly groomed eyebrow.

Keiko-chan was literally eating out of the palm of Uncle Ryōta's hand. Papa had packed a bag of seaweed chips as a snack for the children and provided Uncle Dreamboat was feeding her, she was even scarfing those down. Takao briefly considered inviting Kise over at mealtimes more often. It would certainly make his task of feeding their picky eater a lot easier, though he didn't think his husband would be too appreciative of the idea.

Thankfully they didn't have the same issue with their son. Kichi-chan would eat anything and everything off his plate, so long as Daddy didn't make it, and really who could blame the tot. Shin-chan’s cooking lessons with Murasakibara had been short-lived, with the purple-haired giant having thrown in the towel,  _no really_. Shin-chan was unteachable and Mura-chin had flung his tea-towel apron at Takao's well-meaning, but hopeless husband.

Meanwhile Keiko-chan, who was working hard on trying to impress her Uncle Ryōta, was on her best behavior. She was even eating her vegetables provided that a certain former model fed them to her.

"Knock it off, Casanova," an annoyed Midorima told the blond.

Kise, who had no idea what his friend was going on about, answered cluelessly. "Huh?"

"I'm watching you," Midorima said menacingly to his friend.

"Oookay," the baffled blond responded.

Takao, who knew exactly what was ticking off his husband, had a good laugh. "Ignore Shin-chan," he told a completely lost Ryōta. "He's just practicing for when our daughter starts bringing boys home."

"Are you jealous Shin-chan? Don't worry, I'll feed you." Takao picked up a piece tuna off his own plate. "Here you go," he said holding the fish up to Midorima's mouth. "Open wide and say 'ahhh.'"  

"Knock it off, idiot," was Midorima's response. He had directed his words to his quipster husband, but they could've applied with equal force to his Teikō teammate as well. 

The aviator's phone buzzed and in order to free up his hands to view the text, he placed the spoon down on the tray on Kichiro's high chair. It was a rookie mistake, one made by people who didn't have children.

The infant immediately picked up the eating utensil and started happily banging on the plastic tray, splattering remnants of baby food everywhere. Midorima tried to get him to stop by taking the spoon away which of course resulted in an outburst of squalls and unhappy protests.

"I'll be back," he announced to the table as he picked up the kicking infant, reunited him with the spoon, and walked outside to quiet the baby down. It was only at children's restaurants, Midorima noted, that being outside was infinitely more peaceful than being indoors. 

Keiko who'd been holding it in on account of being all distracted by her sparkly uncle suddenly felt the urgent call of nature. "Potty, Papa!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, startling Ryōta beside her right out of his well-moisturized skin.

Because this was a kid's restaurant none of the other diners batted an eyelash (the same couldn't be said of the fancier establishments they frequented with Grandma and Grandpa Midorima). Takao scooped her out of her booster seat and with the practiced motion of a fullback running off with a rugby ball carried her to the nearest family restroom. It had been a seamless maneuver that said he knew the drill and had practiced it often.

When Takao and his daughter returned to the table, Kise was smiling down at his phone like it had said something incredibly clever.  

Moments later, Midorima walked back into the restaurant with a now smiling Kichiro in tow. 

"There's my big boy," Takao cooed to the infant extending his arms towards his son. Kichiro's smile widened and Papa's face lit up in response. 

"Kazu," Midorima said as he handed over the baby. "I just spoke to Mother. She wants to know when she should expect her shipment."

"Shin-chan." Kazunari bounced the now cheerful tot on his leg as he spoke. "It's not like it's a picture frame. I've been making calls, but it's not that easy. I've got to get the electrician involved and the maintenance guy and borrow that ladder again. Plus, then I need to arrange for someone to re-plaster our ceiling."

"You put it up in a matter of hours the first time," Midorima reminded him.  

"What are you guys talking about?" Kise asked, clearly not following.

"My husband misappropriated my mother's chandelier," Midorima responded, like it was a common occurrence that happened to every family. 

"It's a long story," Takao said to his bewildered friend, which of course explained nothing. 

The entire mishap could be blamed on autofill. Someone on Shintarō's side of the family (it certainly wasn't Takao’s relatives) had bought Kazunari and his then new husband a glass amphora as a present for their nuptials. The gift had come from a well-known Venetian merchant.

Years later, the same shopkeeper took Sazuna's order for a custom-made Ca' Rezzonico chandelier. When he or she entered the Midorima surname into the computer, it repopulated all the other fields including the shipping address. Toss in the language barrier and well the rest was recent history and evidently Takao's problem. Because while the installation process had run smoothly, the deinstallation had hit multiple snags.

For starters, the building's gardener had gone to Okinawa for a month-long vacation and no one could figure out where he stored the ladder. The electrician (who'd only been in the building the first time because he'd just finished work on another unit) was recovering from a bout of gout and had suggested they call someone else for the job and the maintenance man was investigating a mysterious rodent that had taken up residence in Mrs. Sato's apartment below (Kazunari suspected that what their widowed neighbor was really trying to catch was a man). 

Dining with small children was a fast food affair. Not necessarily the grub itself, but the experience. One couldn't dillydally with one's friend and shoot the breeze. Not for very long, at least.

"Get up, we're leaving," Shintarō abruptly announced to the table, taking Kichiro from his father's lap.

"What?" Kise squawked, dropping his spoon. "But I just got here," he whined.

"Next time, don't be twenty minutes late, idiot," Midorima said without so much as a drop of empathy.

"I haven't even finished my soup yet," the blond protested.

"Take it to go or stay here and finish it by yourself. I don't care," Midorima said with the urgency of a man holding a ticking time bomb instead of a soon-to-be ticked off infant. "Let's go, Takao."

"Seriously, Kise," Takao explained, "you  _do not_ want to be here for the melt down." The kids' afternoon nap had been disrupted and pushed off by almost an hour to make room for their lunchtime get together. Any moment now their over-stimulated and sleep deprived tots were going to erupt.

Midorima left enough yen on the table to cover the meal and then some and headed out the door with his son, not bothering to wait for Ryōta’s response.

Takao removed his daughter from her booster seat the way one would pull a stubborn turnip from the ground, which was no small feat considering she had no intentions of bidding farewell to Uncle Ryōta. Vocal, teary protests ensued.

A fine dining establishment like the Hamster Hoedown Character Cafe did not offer such conveniences as valet parking. Papa had to hoof it five blocks uphill to the nearest public, outdoor parking lot while his family waited for him to bring the car around under the awning outside the restaurant.

"It's still too hot," Daddy complained from his shady spot on the sidewalk, carrying a fussy child in each arm.

Papa drove around the block at a snail's pace a few more times in midday Tokyo traffic until the luxury sedan's climate controlled cabin cooled down enough for Daddy to put the children in the backseat and buckle them into their car seats.

There was a short lived outburst from one of the tykes, but like Pavlov's dog, the children were sound sleep in the backseat by the time the car pulled into the notorious financial district gridlock heading east towards their bayside penthouse.

###

Midorima's parents had given their granddaughter a tricycle during their now weekly Sunday family gathering. Which was all fine and dandy, except that Keiko wanted to ride it. 

She couldn't very well ride it around the interior of her grandparents' spacious and richly-furnished home. Well, she _could_ but that wouldn't end well for anyone, especially Grandma Midorima's antique netsuke figurines.

Her parents and Aunt Shuzuko had thus taken her and her brother to the park near Daddy's childhood home.

Kichi-chan was most unhappy because though he very much wanted to take his sister's wheels for a spin, his short little legs couldn't reach the pedals yet (at least not if he wanted to also sit on the seat). This was most troublesome for the infant. It was just as well because though his sister had "bouts" of sharing, they were just that, bouts. And they were mostly directed at Daddy and Papa and rarely included her little brother. 

While Midorima consoled the baby (Grandma and Grandpa had gotten him a rocking horse and they were going to put it together just as soon as they got home), Takao was trying his darnest to capture it all on video. Not the crying, he'd have to edit some of that out later when he got home, but their little girl zooming around her parents and Aunt Shuzuko going as fast as her little legs could propel her. 

The open road ( _er_ , enclosed walkway) ahead, the wind in her hair (the part that wasn't covered by her brand new sparkly pink Ketty-chan helmet, Grandma Midorima knew her well), the sun's rays kissing her SPF 75+ slathered skin (Daddy was a worrywart). And then she took off like a light, looking like she was never coming back. _Shit_.

Aunt Shuzuko ran after her. Shin-chan would've done it, but he was holding the baby. Aunt Shuzuko was spry and young and like her brother had stems that were a mile long. She could've tried out for the high school track team back in her day, except Mother had refused to let her, claiming proper young ladies didn't run between painted lanes on a track like greyhounds chasing a rabbit (don't even get Sazuna started on hurdles). Never mind that Shuzuko had gone to an all girls' school and who else made up the track team's roster except other girls.

Unlike Shuzuko, who'd gone to an exclusive academy for well-to-do young ladies, Shintarō had been more or less left to his own devices in selecting a secondary education. Takao didn't think Shin-chan would've been allowed to matriculate in a déclassé facility like Shūtoku, what with its dilapidated buildings, had Midorima's parents actually been paying attention. The tsundere and the hawkeye's paths would've never crossed and Midorima Shintarō would've just been that Teikō prick who beat Kazunari so badly in a middle school match he'd cried and almost quit the sport.

Whether it had been a general lack of interest in their son's life or Midorima's parents' lifelong preoccupation with themselves that had done it, Takao felt the urge to sprint to the nearest temple and thank whichever deity was responsible for ensuring Shin-chan never followed in Akashi's footsteps and enrolled at Rakuzan or some other pompous institution catering to trust fund babies.   

Takao's own trust fund baby was staring daggers at him and Daddy. Shin-chan had put the infant in his pram and Kichiro did _not_ want to be pushed around in a stuffy old pram. He wanted to run after his sister too. 

Kazunari picked his son up and covered the baby's ears with the hood of his jacket, trying to ward off the crisp autumn air. Kichi-chan was wearing a hoodie because Papa had a weakness for tiny hoodies. Papa decided to carry the baby over to the lotus pond at the south end of the park. The flowers there bloomed every summer leaving behind dry stalks, but there would likely be a few pochards and northern pintailswading in the water, enough to distract his son and redirect his attention. 

Midorima Shintarō was no stranger to being gawked at. He had been getting linger looks from strangers since before his lucky item obsession even began. He'd always been tall and gawky and green hair wasn't a common trait for anyone outside his father's side of the family. Still, even he had to admit this was getting unnerving. He had been abandoned by his loved ones. His spouse has taken his son to Shinobazu Pond and his sister had texted him that she'd caught up with his daughter near the pagoda and they were sharing a cup of hot cocoa Shuzuko had purchased from a vendor. The neurosurgeon was headed to the west side of the park to meet them. 

The net result was that Midorima Shintarō had been left behind pushing a pram. Not just any pram.  _Oh no_. He was pushing the world's most impractical baby shower present. Back when they had decided that they would be starting a family and after they had been pre-approved by the adoption agency, Kise had decided it would be a  _great_  idea to throw them a baby shower.

Of course, the fête had been doomed from the beginning considering the guest list (no baby shower should include Aomine). It had been attended by both sets of grandparents (Shintarō's father had left early), the soon-to-be aunts, the Kiseki no Sedai and their significant others, Coach Nakatani, and Shūtoku's starting lineup for all three-years the expectant fathers had played on the team. The shower had been a bit of an ambush, _er_ surprise, and so they hadn't put a registry together. Consequently, they had ended up with three baby strollers including this monstrosity on wheels, courtesy of Midorima's own mother. 

If that weren't bad enough, his daughter had tucked her baby doll in the carriage so that anyone peering at Midorima Shintarō (and let's face it, he was hard to miss even without the impressive Victorian antique he was pushing) saw a 195 centimeter man taking a doll out for a stroll in the park. All of Oha Asa's lucky items combined had not been this mortifying.

* * *

**AN1:** I doubt that an adult Shin-chan would still be the same height he was as a first-year in high school. If they ever release updated stats, I'll have go back and revise all these stories. This last bit was set in [Ueno Park](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ueno_Park), which is gorgeous any time of the year, but especially in the spring and fall.  

 **AN2:** I hope my precious babies didn't come off as too bratty. I realized as I was writing this chapter that they were crying an awful lot. Thanks for reading my series and as always, please don't be shy about comments. They really and truly make my day.    


	3. Dirty Laundry

Takao was out on the terrace watering the plants. Now that they were in the throes of autumn, they were starting to get more and more days when it was nippy outside. Soon, he'd have to bring some of them inside for the winter. 

He had made sure to prop the heavy glass door of the terrace open with one of Shin-chan's hefty medical reference books. Even though he'd had the faulty knob repaired,  _twice_ , he didn't want to risk getting locked out there again.

For added security, he had a fully charged cell phone in the back pocket of his form fitting jeans (Kazunari refused to wear "dad" jeans). In the unlikely event that one of the kids pushed the book out of the way and accidentally locked Papa out, he'd at least be able to call the doorman to bail him out. Takao was not an especially paranoid person by nature, that was Shin-chan's department. But becoming a father had made him more cognizant of the importance of having contingency plans.

He was watering the ficus (the one Shin-chan could no longer look at without blushing furiously, like he'd run into an old lover). As it was, they had never found Shin-chan's silk mohair pants and after a suitable period of mourning, the matching bespoke jacket had been donated to charity.

Keiko and Kichiro had initially followed Papa out onto the terrace -- curiosity getting the better of them -- before quickly deciding they preferred the warmth and coziness of the climate controlled penthouse. Of course, this meant that their father had had to bundle them up and put their rubber, outdoor-slippers on only to unbundle the young tots and remove their footwear minutes later.

The children were now making silly faces at Papa by pressing their tiny noses and tongues against the thick glass pane that separated the living room from the outdoor terrace. Takao was responding in kind, making his own ridiculous faces at them, causing his kids to squeal and giggle in delight. 

His rug rats were having a riotous good time and even though he'd have to clean the miniature prints off the glass later, it didn't bother the hawkeye in the slightest. Takao was of the unwavering opinion that life was meant to be enjoyed and making a small mess in the process was part of the fun and always worth it.

Seeing his kids smiling again was a nice change from the waterworks this morning over what Midorima had humorlessly dubbed the  _Tricycle of Torment_  and the  _Rocking Horse of Discontent_. These were gifts that Midorima’s mother had bestowed upon her grandchildren and while well-meaning, they had unleashed considerable strife upon the four denizens of the penthouse. 

For starters, Keiko naturally wanted to ride her new three-wheeler. The problem was Takao couldn't let her do it indoors. As much as he loved facilitating his children's merriment, he was not -- and never would be -- an irresponsible parent. The children had had enough of that for the brief period at the onset of their lives when they were with their birth mother and there would be none of that now that they were Shintarō and Kazunari’s children.

Papa had no intentions of visiting any emergency rooms on account of either of his tiny tykes bumping into a table or knocking over something heavy --  _thank you very much_  -- and Shin-chan certainly wouldn't appreciate a surprise visit from his family at his place of employment for an avoidable occurrence. 

On the other hand, he couldn't very well take her to the park even though she could ride free there to her little heart's content without having to worry about the trappings of a fully furnished and professionally decorated penthouse. Time and weather permitting, Takao would gladly take his children to the park every day. But last Sunday's escapade had taught him that he couldn't take the kids  _and_  the tricycle out, at least not without another adult who could chase after Keiko or hold Kichiro. If their daughter pedaled away again, he'd have a hard time running after her with a baby in tow. 

Then there was Kichiro's rocking horse which caused its own troubles. 

Their daughter's new favorite word was "mine." It was adorable when she applied to people. Yesterday evening, Shin-chan had come home from work and scooped her up off the floor where she'd been playing with her dollies. When Papa had tried to swoop in to steal a welcome home kiss from his spouse, she'd wrapped her small, territorial little arms around Shintarō's neck.  _Daddy mine_ , she'd possessively proclaimed -- grammar be damned. To which Shin-chan affirmed the sentiment by telling Kazunari to stop antagonizing the children. 

It was decidedly less cute when the word "mine" was applied to things -- specifically, other people's things and even more specifically, her little brother's things. And so had ensued the battle over the rocking horse that stood proudly since Sunday in Kichiro's nursery. Sharing was not their daughter's forte, Kazunari had concluded. They called it the terrible twos for a reason and he had to take what he could in stride and make the most of it.

This wasn't to say she didn't have bouts of angelic behavior -- the other day she had nearly melted her Papa's sappy heart by giving her little brother almost half of her rice ball when he'd politely requested it by practically climbing onto her melamine Ketty-chan plate while the three of them enjoyed a picnic lunch on the floor of their living room. Papa was doing what he could to keep the kids entertained indoors as the thermostat dropped. She'd done it entirely unbidden and out of her own volition (though to be fair Keiko-chan didn't particularly like rice balls). Overall, these incidents were few and far between, but Papa was always sure to praise his little moppet profusely for good behavior.  

Fatherhood had made Kazunari resourceful, even more so than usual. He'd found a temporary solution to the sharing dilemma by simply putting the tricycle and the rocking horse in the short hallway in front of the elevator outside their penthouse apartment. Their residence occupied the entire top floor so it wasn't like they would be in anyone's way and no one would be tempted to abscond with their property, although there was no real danger of that given the geriatric nature of the populace in their building. Most people their age couldn't swing the mortgage on a Tokyo Bay apartment and so it was mostly retirees or aging trust-fund babies who were their neighbors. The toys' disappearance was a temporary solution, he knew, but one that so far was working like a charm. Out of sight, out of mind.

###

After he had finished watering the plants, Kazunari went back inside and carried on with the rest of his day without incident.

When six o'clock rolled around he'd started dinner. He left the pot of donburi simmering on the kitchen stove while he returned to the task of folding the laundry. 

Ideally, he would have folded the clothes right out of the dryer. Shin-chan somehow always knew when his husband had allowed the clothes to cool down first and then folded them. Normally, Takao would smile with found exasperation at his fastidious husband’s rants on proper housekeeping, but today Shintarō could stuff it.

Shin-chan had not been on the phone with three different electricians trying to get one of them to square away a date when they could come to the penthouse and effectuate the whole de-installation process, only to then be informed by the Black Cat Courier Service that if it didn't fit in the flimsy foldable cardboard boxes they provided, Takao would need to supply his own container -- which was total bullshit because he had seen that documentary on TV Asahi where that same company had shipped a whole  _whale_  to some marine mammal veterinary hospital across the Pacific for treatment.

Midorima also hadn't had Sazuna talk his ear off for nearly an hour about Shuzuko's  _not_ -boyfriend. Shin-chan's  _parents_  had broken up with their daughter's boyfriend following a disastrous dining experience Takao frankly did not want to remember. So naturally, as far as they were concerned, there  _was_  no boyfriend. The hawkeye had had to listen to Sazuna complain incessantly, all while changing diapers, filling sippy cups with juice, kissing pretend boo boos on dollies and hitting the play button on the Hamster Hoedown DVD when Papa really, really needed a break.

Shin-chan hadn't done any of those things, Takao had. And the hawkeye was going to stuff a balled-up sock in Shin-chan's mouth if his husband unwisely dared to even remark on the extra creases in the cooled-down laundry.   

Kazunari brought the rectangular plastic basket into the living room so he could keep an eye on the kids while he sorted through the now laundered linens and converted them into civilized piles of clothes. Kichiro was having a grand old time banging on a set of toy drums and Keiko was pushing the buttons on an electric keyboard that played snippets of nursery tunes. 

The bulk of the wash consisted of king-sized bed sheets because Princess Shin-chan always insisted on changing the sheets after they'd engaged in connubial canoodling, as it were. He couldn't just fall asleep afterwards and ignore the wet spot like most people. 

Hence, they owned a  _lot_  of bed sheets. Like, they could outfit the bed for a whole month without any repeats. One of the more impractical wedding gifts they were bestowed with (and they had received plenty of  _really-you-shouldn't-haves_  from Shin-chan's side of the family), were a set of dry-clean only silk damask sheets which Takao consequently referred to as their "chastity sheets." When they adorned their marital bed, he knew he wasn't getting any because there was no way they could be mussed up. Well, they  _could_  be, but then he'd have to explain some tell-tale marks to the cleaners. 

The rest of their laundry was made up of tiny garments. The children dirtied laundry like bunnies multiplied in fertile spring fields. They had already sullied the clothes Papa had put them in today,  _twice_. The basket was filled with onesies, burp cloths, Ketty-chan attire, and itty-bitty little socks. Takao would think they were cute except that matching pint-sized socks and folding teeny clothes were a lot harder than adult-sized ones.   

Kazu was folding what seemed like the umpteenth load of laundry this week. He really needed to have a chat with his persnickety husband about pissing off their cleaning persons. Shin-chan had scared two away this month with his impossible standards and acerbic personality. And then there was Yuki-kun.  While she had refused to do laundry, she had at least been good company while Takao folded. They had lost a good one and he had yet to figure out how she got their counter tops so gleaming he could see his reflection. Takao had really liked her, which was probably why she'd been doomed from the start.  

He didn't feel too badly for her though. He'd helped her find a new job and she had landed on her feet. She certainly had an easier time cleaning for Kise now.  _How much of a mess could one guy possibly make?_  It wasn't like he was a slob like Aomine or Murasakibara and the former-model-turned-commercial-airline-pilot was hardly home to boot. Yup, Yuki-kun had ended up in housekeeper heaven and she was never coming back. 

The children were playing their instruments on the floor near his feet. They both loved music. Keiko-chan often serenaded her fathers with ditties she'd picked up from them or made up on her own and while Kichi-chan's vocabulary was more limited, he always babbled along when Kazunari sung him to sleep in his glider.

Theirs was a musical family. Takao had always been a fiend at karaoke and had a great set of pipes, if he did say so himself. Which of course he had to, because Shin-chan would rather die than admit that he loved his husband's crooning voice. And it went without saying that Midorima played the piano with the skill and grace of a concert pianist. 

So far, neither child had shown much aptitude for musical instruments. Though this didn't stop them from playing them often and they certainly loved making a racket. Shin-chan claimed they got that Kazu. The hawkeye didn't disagree. He was raised in a nosy household and he loved the sound of his kids enjoying themselves.

They were being perfect angels,  _at the moment_. Of course that didn't mean much. Takao knew from experience that young children, like afternoon thundershowers in late summer, could gather up in storm clouds and begin pouring at a moment's notice.

Although, this impromptu jam session had been peaceful, Takao was counting the minutes till the children’s father got home. He was more than ready to tender them over to Daddy for a bit so he could have a nice relaxing soak in their whirlpool roman tub. He was  _so_ in need of some Kazu-time.

It had been one of those days when Takao had barely had time to think. The children hadn't slept nearly enough during their nap time for him to get anything of substance accomplished. It was the reason he was still folding laundry so late in the afternoon. Once they had woken up, he'd had to cut short his face time interview with a promising power forward. As a result, he only had fragments of a half written article on Kaijō's new starting lineup waiting for him on his hard drive.

Takao sighed as he tucked his hands between the cushions in search of a pink polka dot sock that had strayed from its partner.

As expected, the hawkeye heard the ding of the elevator, followed by the familiar footfalls of his husband's Italian leather loafers. But then he heard the distinctive sound of a designer alligator briefcase hitting the floor followed by a loud crash and an even louder, "KAZUNARI! What the  _HELL_  are these toys doing out in the hallway!"

_Uh oh._

###

After dinner, they had both bathed the children and put them to bed. Kazunari and Shintarō then retired to the living room for a bit of light reading and relaxation before turning in for the night. 

Shin-chan did not have surgery the next day. He only had consultations and so he was a little less militant about bedtime. 

Shintarō was ensconced in a biography about an obscure, Austrian composer who'd lived some 200 years ago. He'd made Takao run down to the bookstore the other day to pick up a copy for him and the hawkeye was almost certain he’d been the first person in the entire country to purchase this book. He couldn’t imagine there was much demand for the story a guy most people had never heard of. 

Kazunari was sitting next to his husband reading his subscription to Basketball Monthly. Takao was a sportswriter for a small publication and he liked to scope out the competition. Shintarō was absentmindedly stroking his husband’s thigh when he wasn't turning the pages of what was an apparently riveting account. It felt nice to have Shin-chan’s hand on his person and Takao didn't move a muscle lest he inadvertently discourage this affectionate touching.  

After flipping to the next page, Shintarō's hand fell short of Kazunari's leg and landed between the seat cushions. "What's this?" he asked as he pulled out a small piece of fabric that had been hiding in there. 

"Ah. I was folding the laundry in here earlier," Kazunari explained. "This one's a straggler," he said as he took the garment from his husband's hand and proceeded to fold it neatly into a small square.

"Well, don't you think it's reckless?"

"Folding the laundry on our couch?"

"That pattern," Midorima clarified.

"It's whimsical, Shin-chan." 

"It depicts dogs driving motorcycles," Midorima said with supreme disapproval.

"It's cute," Kazunari countered.

"It's preposterous," his husband insisted. "Dogs don’t drive. What's more, it's dangerous. They're not even wearing helmets," he noted. "They'll give our son the wrong idea."

"It's a onesie, Shin-chan. One he'll spit up on for a few months before he outgrows it and it ends up at the hospital donation bin. I seriously doubt it'll have much of an influence on Kichiro's life."

And then, because he knew this really wasn't about the onesie, he took his husband's left hand and ran his thumb over the back of it in soothing circles. "Shin-chan, you can't cover them in bubble wrap, you know. They're going to fall down. There will be bruises and scraped knees. And we'll be there to pick them up, dry their tears, and kiss it all better,” he said planting a loving smooch on his husband’s cheek, just below the rim of his glasses.

Kazunari placed the folded onesie beside his mobile on the coffee table when he noticed he’d missed a text.

The hawkeye started laughing when he read the message.  

"Who’s it from?" Midorima asked. The tsundere had picked up his book again and didn't bother looking up.

"It's Ryōta," Kazunari snickered. "And he sent it to the wrong person." 

He held up the screen to show Shintarō. The text read,  _Do you have the kids this weekend?_

"Idiot." Midorima remarked of his middle school classmate before resuming his reading. 

Kazunari grinned evilly as he quickly typed out a response. He could just imagine his friend's face when he realized his mistake.  

 _I have the kids every weekend, Kise. They live with us. Now, who were you trying to text at this hour? Was it a booty call? Tell Kazu everything._ o(^◇^)o 

* * *

 

 **AN:** Sorry for the delay in posting an update to this story. I've been busy writing MidoTaka prompts on my [Tumblr](http://jmetmisc.tumblr.com/). Eventually they'll migrate over here and be posted as part of [All You Need Is Love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4664187/chapters/10693472). So please stay tuned. As always, I'd love to hear what you think. 


	4. Self(ie) Inflicted Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kazu goes in search of an overgrown box, Ryōta proves Shin-chan right (he really is an idiot).

Takao was circling the parking lot of a lumber store that was out in the middle of nowhere. He might as well have been circling the drain. Despite the retailer's remote location, its sizable lot somehow managed to have every single, non-designated parking space occupied by all conceivable forms of motorized vehicles and one row of shopping carts. Kazunari gave the death stare to an RV that had managed to snag not one, not two, but _three_ parking spots all to itself. 

The hawkeye was on a mission. He was out searching for a crate large enough to accommodate a certain elephantine light fixture since the Black Cat delivery service everyone in the country seemed to use had refused to take the troublesome object two wards west to Sazuna's stately home without proper packaging.

Really, he only had himself to blame. He'd allowed the maintenance man to throw away the disassembled crate from whence it came, in the first place. Kazunari was muttering curses under his breath.  _Why were the employees in his building so inconveniently efficient?_ He lamented. In most other places the scraps of wood would've sat around for days, perhaps weeks, before anyone thought to drive them to the city dump. In college, he once left a pizza box outside Kuroko and Kagami's place and it was  _still there_  the following week when he came back to visit. Yet the sarcophagus-sized lighting container had disappeared before Shin-chan even came home from work that same day. Now Kazunari had to go out in search of a replacement receptacle.

Takao was half tempted to keep the contemptible contraption and get his mother-in-law another one, except for the part that there wasn't another one. It had been custom built  _for_  her. It had cost an arm and four legs (Takao had checked the packing slip). Shin-chan _hated_ it and their decorator would be pissed (to say the least) that they'd added something so gaudy, so attention-grabbing, and so incompatible with their décor. He didn't want the damned thing anymore than Shintarō did and about the only person who was thrilled with the flashy hardware hanging from their entryway was their little girl who continued to gaze up at it in wonderment every night when Daddy came home and turned on the "stars."

The hawkeye usually took everything in stride. His normally carefree, happy-go-lucky personality was one of his best traits, he thought. It certainly played an enormous role in his relationship with his spouse. It was probably the reason he and his husband were so compatible.  It was the oil that greased the wheels and kept things running smoothly. But Takao's nerves were starting to fray. He was so  _sick_  of this little sideshow, even his seemingly endless patience was beginning to wear thin. Nothing in this chandelier extraction project had proven easy. Kazunari tightened his grip on the steering wheel, he wanted to scream.

Instead, he turned the volume up on his top-notch car stereo and shamelessly sang along at the top of his lungs to his favorite rock group. They'd just released their new album and Takao had picked up his copy this morning. Once upon a time, in high school, he'd even convinced Shin-chan to sneak into one of their concerts with him and Kise. It had been one hell of night. Afterwards, he and Shin-chan had made out behind the hedges, back when locking lips with Midorima Shintarō was the be-all and end-all for one Takao Kazunari.

Of course, since then, he had done more than just smooch Midorima Shintarō. A lot more. Kissing Shin-chan was still amazing, but the list of things they did together had expanded considerably since those heady days and certain other joint pastimes had come into play, permanently altering the hierarchy of activities he liked to do with his tsundere. 

Sure, they had their occasional hiccups, mere bumps in the road, but even after all this time together Kazunari was head-over-heels in love with his best friend and couldn't possibly entertain the thought of being married to anyone else. 

Takao snorted, he tried to picture Shin-chan hitched to someone as prickly and inflexible as, _well_ , Shin-chan. He just couldn't do it. What he could envision where _two_ Shin-chans and then his thoughts took a distractedly different turn altogether. He was frankly surprised he hadn't fogged up the mirrors when an emphatic car horn jolted him out of his sultry daydream and out of what would've surely been a fender bender. 

"Sorry," Takao said aloud, waiving apologetically to the driver of a minivan who was yelling obscenities at him for missing the stop sign at the end of a row of parked cars and almost hitting him. They both had their windows up and Takao's music was blaring, but it wasn't hard to decipher what the other motorist was trying to say. The man was even using helpful hand gestures to illustrate exactly where he'd like Takao to stick it. 

Several more unsuccessful revolutions around the lot later, Kazunari gazed longingly as he passed the temptingly vacant prime spots towards the entrance of the store reserved for expectant mothers and parents with very small children. Reluctantly, he drove past them. He had his permit (and the "baby on board" decal Shin-chan insisted on getting for their matching sedans to magically ward off bad drivers), but he didn't have his kids with him, so he had no choice but to remain in this seemingly interminable, vehicular conga line around the full lot.

On the bright side, he had found a new electrician, _thankfully_. The father-in-law of one of the guys Kagami worked with at the fire station.

 _How do you accidentally install a chandelier?_ The redhead had legitimately wanted to know.

It was a fair question and one Takao had gotten a lot lately, from Shin-chan when he'd first walked in and saw the sparkling monstrosity in their entryway, from Sazuna who very much wanted it back (or, rather wanted it given to her in the first place), and more recently from Kagami to whom Takao had had to divulge the embarrassing details in order to get this guy's number. _Man, and people think I'm the dumb one. I can't wait to tell Tetsu about this._ That had been Taiga's oh so comforting response.

Kagami needn't have bothered, Kazunari had already spilled his guts to Tetsuya. _You really are an idiot, Kazunari-kun_ , had been the Phantom Sixth Man's verdict.

Sure, in hindsight it seemed ridiculous to all these morning-after-the game commentators. But it had all made perfect sense in Kazunari's brain at the time. A call from Shin-chan to go back home and wait for a delivery (it certainly wasn't unlike the tsundere to make Kazunari drop everything), an inconveniently large package received (this wouldn't be the first time), granted the item itself had been unexpected, but it was extravagant enough for Shin-chan's opulent tastes. _All the signs had been there!_

He began following a lady pushing a shopping cart to her car in hopes that she'd put away her things quickly and vacate her parking spot. He had his turn signal on and was watching her transfer all those bags of mulch when a call rang through the car stereo, interrupting his song. The screen on the dashboard lit up with the name Kise Ryōta which was odd since Ryōta preferred to text and even more odd since Kazunari suspected Ryōta was avoiding him. Ever since Kise had shot off that errant text, the former teen idol had been awfully quiet.

When Takao pushed the button on his steering wheel to answer the call, the squawks that came through the speakers were a jumble of unintelligible words.

"Wait. Slow down. You what?"

Takao looked longingly at the now empty spot and regretfully drove past it.

###

The sight that greeted Kazunari when he used his spare key to let himself into Kise Ryōta's fashionable Shibuya apartment was sadder than Shin-chan on the day he found out they moved Oha Asa's time slot due to poor ratings.

The model turned airline pilot was laying on his back next to his treadmill. The machine was still whirling around like an empty luggage conveyor belt.

Ryōta craned his head back so he could greet his friend. "Thanks for coming over, Takaocchi," he said and even in this state he managed to give Kazunari a dazzling smile. 

The first thing Takao did was hand Kise two aspirins and a glass of tap water. He then helped Ryōta off the floor and out of his sweaty gym clothes, dumping the model in the tub. Takao knew from personal experience that a hot bath did wonders for tired muscles.  

It was really no big deal for either of them. Kise had been a model most of his life and was used to changing in front of people. They had both played team sports and thus were no strangers to communal showers, not that Takao had any interest, nor would he be joining his friend in the tub. There were definite lines Kazunari would  _never_  cross and those were clearly and firmly demarcated by whether they would make Shintarō worry.

Over the years, Kazunari had been privy to Kise's junk and bare derriere more times than he cared to recount. There were those alcohol fueled bouts of streaking, the occasional wardrobe malfunction, and that time Ryōta got his pert ass stuck on the metal spike of a fence and tore his pants in half on the way down. There was also the snakeskin, skintight leather pants Ryōta had once worn to a club, but the less said about those the better.

Takao left Kise more or less on his own in the bathroom -- though he kept the door open and an ear out for any signs of trouble -- while he went in search of food. As expected, there were 27 bottles of mineral water, an avocado mask, and a box of baking soda in the fridge, but no signs of caloric content. The cupboards fared no better. Kazunari thought he'd at least find a packet of onion soup mix in there. A mouse would starve in Ryōta's desolate kitchen.

Kazunari got on the horn and ordered Korean takeout (he might as well pick what he liked) from a restaurant down the street he knew well precisely because of Ryōta's habit of not keeping food in the apartment.

He then returned to the bedroom to help Goldilocks dry his hair. Kise's coconut-scented, salon-grade shampoo and conditioner reminded Kazunari of the beach. Even with no product and with Takao hardly trying, Ryōta's tresses looked amazing. _Annoying bastard._  

"Are you okay?" he asked his friend, now that they'd both eaten and Ryōta was in bed in his pajamas. 

"Yeah," Kise assured him. 

Takao took Ryōta's mobile and plugged it into the charger next to the night table, making sure it was within reaching distance for the model. "Is it too hot for you?" he asked Ryōta. 

"Nah. The heating pad feels good." Ryōta pressed it against the small of his back.

"Can I get you anything else? Water maybe?"

"No. I'm fine." 

Ryōta wasn't his usual chipper self. This subdued version of his friend had Kazunari concerned. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?" he asked. "I can call Shin-chan. He can take a look at you."

"No. It's fine Takaocchi. I really appreciate you coming over on such short notice."

"Of course. I wasn't going to let you just lay there. Besides, I was already out."

Ryōta didn't respond to that and Takao was just happy he didn't have to explain _why_ he was out. 

After a few moments where they both sat there in companionable silence, Ryōta asked him something seemingly out of the blue. "When do you workout?"

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"Whenever I can squeeze it in. Usually at night, after I put the kids and Shin-chan to bed."

"I thought you'd bring them with you," the blond said, referring to the children. 

"Nah." Though he was tempted to lay out, Takao remained upright, on top of the covers. "Shin-chan stayed home with them so I could go buy a crate." Not that he had even made it past the parking lot.

The thought of navigating the crowded aisles of a lumber store teeming with sharp and pointy merchandise with two kids under three gave Takao pause. There was stupidly brave, and then there was stupidly crazy, he would classify that under the second category.  

"They stayed home with _Midorimacchi_?" Ryōta sounded astonished, as if Takao had said he'd left them playing in traffic or flying kites during a thunderstorm. 

Takao sulked. "You know they have two fathers, right? It's not like I'm a single parent." 

"I know but --, I just thought that --, _um_ maybe I could use some water?" 

Takao knew exactly what Ryōta was trying _not_ to say, before the blond had inelegantly changed the subject -- that Shin-chan was not an involved parent, that Takao did the bulk of the child rearing. But that wasn't the way Kazunari saw things. When Shintarō got home from work and on his days off, he  _always_ helped Kazunari with the kids. He fed them, played with them, bathed them, and put them to bed.

What Shintarō rarely did up until recently was do these things alone. He needed that extra bit of reassurance in the sense that his spouse was nearby to make sure he didn't royally screw things up. It was an unfounded fear, but one Kazunari knew Shintarō had nonetheless. It was certainly not one the hawkeye shared with his spouse. He never once doubted that Midorima Shintarō would be an amazing father. How could he not be? He loved those children dearly.  

Sure, in the past, Shin-chan had been terrified to stay home alone with the kids, but that was no longer the case. Ever since they'd returned from their summer vacation, Keiko and Kichiro had been spending more one-on-one time with Daddy. Occasionally, Kazunari could step out to run errands, or go for a run, or meet with his editor and leave Shintarō at home with the children. Today's failed little sojourn to the lumber store had been a perfect example. He always made sure to leave prepared meals for them (try as he might, Shin-chan was still a wreck in the kitchen) and checked up on his little family with a call or text, but he knew the three of them would manage just fine. 

"You're a good friend, Takaocchi," Kise assured him when Kazunari returned to the bedroom and handed Ryōta a cold bottle of mineral water. 

"It's no big deal." Takao waived him off.  "So your sister's coming over later to take care of you?"

"Yup."

"The oldest one?"

"Uh huh."

"Cause you know," Takao said, "that doesn't _really_ sound like something she'd do."

"Yeah," Kise said, his voice a bit strained. "She surprised me too."

"I bet," Takao said. "Well maybe I should stick around till she gets here," he suggested oh-so-innocently.

" _No!_  " Ryōta exclaimed. "I mean, that's not necessary. You, you've done enough already."

Kazunari laughed. "Uh huh," he said with a healthy helping of skepticism. Sometimes talking to Kise was like talking to his toddler.  

"So let me get this straight," Takao said. "You fell off your treadmill."  

"Yeah." That much was obvious.

"How'd that happen? Did you trip over your laces or something?"

"I was . . . taking a selfie." Ryōta reached for his phone and showed him. There were a series of snapshots. The first two showed Ryōta's megawatt smile, the third one was just of the top of his head and a flailing arm, and the last one was of the carpeted floor. 

Kazunari snickered. "Who were you taking the selfie for?"

"M-my self. That's why it's called a 'selfie.'"

Takao laughed. "You really are an idiot," he said.

"Takaocchi's so mean," Ryōta complained. "Never mind. I take it back. You're not a good friend. You're a big meanie for laughing at meeee." Kise was trying to sound whiny, a mimeograph of his usual self. He wasn't fooling anyone. Kazunari saw right through him.  

Takao waited until Ryōta was settled in for the night, before making his friend uncomfortable.

"Soooo," he drawled. "Tell me about this person you're seeing."

"I don't know what you're talking about." It wasn't like Kise to not want to overshare. Ordinarily, he wouldn't shut up about his conquests. Kise liked to parade the bevy of beauties he dated and after a suitable period of time, cast them off like last season's clothes. _This one must be serious, then_ , Kazunari concluded.

"C'mon," he coaxed. "No need to be shy. I already know from that text you didn't mean to send me she's got kids." With Kise, it was a safe assumption he was hooking up a woman. Takao had never seen him sober with a man. It was only when Ryōta got sloppy drunk that he played tonsil hockey with other men. And even then, he pretended none of it happened the following day. 

"We're taking it slow," Ryōta admitted. "We're just seeing where things go, for now." This really was not like Ryōta. 

"Alright," Takao conceded. "I get that." And really he did. "We're all entitled to our secrets. But you know you can tell me anything right?" Because really, Kise could. Kazunari nudged Ryōta in the ribs. The blond smiled. "Even the sordid stuff, _especially_ the sordid stuff," he clarified.

Kazunari got off the bed. It was getting dark and it was obvious Ryōta did not want the hawkeye to bump into his "sister" when she came over later. 

###

When Kazunari returned home, all the lights of the penthouse had been turned off save one. Midorima was sitting on the couch under a floor lamp reading a book. The hawkeye removed his shoes. He took his wallet and phone out of his back pocket and left both of them atop the credenza in the genkan. 

"Shin-chan, you waited up for me," he said gazing lovingly at his husband. 

"Don't be ridiculous," the tsundere responded, turning the page of his novel, not bothering to look up. 

Takao glanced at the dust jacket. Just as he thought, it was that biography of the obscure composer Shin-chan had finished reading days ago. He doubted Shintarō was rereading it so soon. 

Kazunari loved this time of day, this time of  _year_ , actually. It was autumn and so the days were shorter. It wasn't particularly late, it wasn’t even half past eight, but night had already fallen and the windows surrounding their home in the sky were twinkling with city lights, bridges, and ferries.

And then there was that lone lamp illuminating the spot where his husband was seated comfortably. Kazunari was drawn to his Light like a moth to the flame.

"Where are the kids?" he asked even though he already knew the answer. They were two-and-a-half and seventeen months, it wasn't a big mystery where they could possibly be. 

"Sound asleep in their beds," the tsundere responded, still not bothering to look up from his book.  

"Did they give you a tough time?" 

"Hardly," Midorima said. "They tend to misbehave more when they're with you." Somehow Takao didn't doubt that. Shintarō turned the page before disinterestedly asking, "How's that idi-, how's Ryōta?"

"He says he's fine. He hurt his back taking a selfie." 

"Idiot," Midorima muttered and then he added, "Does he want me to take a look at it?"

"The selfie?" Takao teased. Shintarō glared at him. 

Unfazed and entirely used to it, Kazunari continued. "I offered your services, but he insisted he's okay." Kazunari sat on the seat cushion beside his larger husband. "Still, I think we should drop by later this week, just in case." 

Midorima hummed in agreement, then turned the page.

"And how was tonight's rendition of _Three Billy Goats Gruff_?" Takao asked as he snuggled up against a cashmere cardigan so soft it felt like Shintarō was wearing kittens. The thought made Kazunari laugh, considering the tsundere's intense dislike of felines. 

For months the both of them had been stuck reading the same bedtime story night after night without fail. _Keiko, honey, you do know we own other books, right?_ Kazunari had gently reminded their daughter. He might as well have saved his breath.

"It was read to me, actually," Shintarō responded.

Shintarō was not implying their toddler could actually read words on a page, that would've been astounding.

What Midorima Keiko liked to do was hold the book -- if it could still be called that given the teeth marks, bent corners, and taped up pages -- and state what was happening on a particular page. Her parents had read the book to her and her brother so many times, she'd memorized the words on each page and could parrot them back, inflections and all. Kazunari thought this was hilarious, particularly when she picked up on Shintarō's distinctive speech pattern. The hawkeye had nearly lost it when she'd added a stray "nannydaddy" -- the toddler's version of Daddy's heavily suppressed catchword -- at the end of a sentence.

"Really?" Kazunari smiled. "And how did it end this time?" he asked. 

"They found a pink baby tiger under the bridge. It was a princess tiger fairy."

"Naturally," Takao agreed. 

"Also, its name was Keiko." Shintarō permitted a tiny smile to grace his lips.

Kazunari laughed. "I'm sorry I missed that," he said sincerely. He enjoyed spending time with his family.

Keiko's "readings" often deviated from the source material. Of course this only applied to her. Keiko-chan got upset if Papa or Daddy didn't read it  _exactly_  the way they always read it. When Keiko read the story, however, more often than not, Princess Ketty-chan saved the day. Other times the troll and the goats went out for ice cream, she was partial to happy endings. She preferred renditions where all of the characters got along. It didn't help that the troll in the illustrations was green (and grumpy). Naturally, it reminded her of her daddy. Kazunari understood this perfectly, he had a soft spot for the troll as well. 

He cupped the tsundere’s face and kissed his cheek. Shintarō returned to his book.

"Well," Kazunari said, yawning dramatically. "If you're so engrossed in that dead guy's life, I guess I should turn in."  When he tried to get up from the couch, Midorima's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. "Aren't you going to shower first?" the tsundere asked. 

Takao smiled victoriously, though careful not to let Midorima see him. The hawkeye knew _exactly_ what he was doing. "I could go for a bath," he agreed, sounding oh so casual. "Care to join me?"

Midorima shrugged, closing the biography and setting it down beside him on the seat cushion Kazunari had just vacated. He didn't even carry out the farce that he'd been reading the book by marking his place. "I supposed I could," he agreed.   

###

The shower, like the book, had been a farce. They barely made it past the door of their bedroom (closed and locked because little hands could turn knobs now) before articles of clothing starting flying every which way.

The urgency with which they touched each other was such that neither one of them thought to make it to the bed when the floor was  _right there_ and made a suitable substitute. 

Shintarō was down to his boxers, he would've been down to nothing at all except he'd slapped Kazunari's hand out of the way. It didn’t matter. The state Shintarō was in left little to the imagination. "I see someone's ready," Kazunari teased, smiling cheekily.

Midorima paid him no heed. He was sitting in seiza with Takao’s legs resting on the tops of his thighs as he grappled with Kazunari’s low-rise, skinny jeans. Takao was on his back, bare from the waist up, enjoying the hungry look on his husband’s handsome face.

"I'm going to need a shoehorn to pry you out of these," the tsundere complained as he tugged on Kazunari’s button fly. Shintarō was panting, not from his efforts, but from arousal. Takao could barely contain himself at the thought and his already snug surroundings suddenly got even snugger. Kazunari’s physiological reaction wasn’t lost on Doctor Midorima. “Idiot, you’re making it worse,” he scolded.

"Why do you insist on wearing these?" he grumbled.  

Takao smirked at his tsundere. "Cause they make my ass look great," he said matter-of-factly. Shintarō rolled his pretty green eyes at the confident man in front of him.

"Don't even try to deny it, Shin-chan. I've seen the way you look at my backside." Shintarō's fingers stopped, he looked surprised at his spouse. Kazunari laughed. The best gift he'd ever gotten from his mother were his hawkeyes. 

Kazunari’s teasing was short lived. It was cut off when Midorima bent his considerable frame and placed a searing kiss on a patch of bare skin several centimeters below the man’s navel. Takao’s throat went bone dry, he started to cough. That single, solitary kiss made the hawkeye so hot and so desperate for more, he longed for scissors so he could cut himself out of his snug fitting denim. 

Midorima smirked with supreme satisfaction, but soon enough he too lost his composure. Kazunari kept his gaze firmly on his husband’s face as he hooked his thumbs into either side of his waistband and through sheer force of will peeled the dark denim off himself along with his boxer briefs.

He loved the predatory way in which Shintarō looked at him, like Kazunari was something on the food chain and he couldn’t wait to put him in his mouth. And then Shintarō did just that. He took him into his mouth and Kazunari rolled his head to the side, arched his hips off the floor.

He bit his lip, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to get carried away by overwhelming sensation – the firm grip of Shintarō’s left hand, the wet heat of his mouth, the flicks and swirls of a practiced tongue, those sinful sounds, and above all the suction, the _maddening_ suction. He was gone. He was so far gone. He was _too_ far gone.

Kazunari buried his fingers in Shintarō’s hair. “Oh _fuck_ , _fuck, fuck, fuck,_ ” he groaned. “Shin-chan, Shin-chan,” he panted. “Stop, stop,” he said tugging on verdant strands. “I’m not going to last.”

“Then don’t,” Shintarō said in his deep baritone. Unperturbed by Kazunari’s predicament, he resumed his attentions. If anything, he redoubled his efforts.

That was all the permission Kazunari needed. He did as he was told. He stopped trying to stem the tide that threatened to carry him off and just let go. Shintarō’s name was on his lips the entire time.

Kazunari was still catching his breath when Shintarō kissed him. Kazunari tried to deepen this kiss. He loved the taste of himself in his lover’s mouth, but Shintarō had moved on. He was kissing the side of his neck, then that juncture where his neck met his shoulder. Kazunari could feel the plastic of Shintarō’s frames dig into his skin, but he felt no pain. He was awash with endorphins.

Kazunari reached over his head for the top drawer of Shintarō’s nightstand, but the tsundere beat him to it. Shintarō uncapped the small bottle and coated his fingers. Now that it was the tsundere’s turn, all that frenetic exigency from earlier had washed away. He took his time with Kazunari. He wanted to make sure Kazunari was good and ready before they moved on.   

There were times when Shintarō was rough and thoroughly destroyed Kazunari. Like, Takao could still feel it the next day. Kazunari loved it. He loved when Midorima Shintarō was a monster in bed. There were also times like now, when Shintarō would lavish him. Kazunari loved this too.

“Kazu,” he whispered hoarsely against the side of Takao’s ear and it was like a full-body caress. The hawkeye erupted in gooseflesh.  

When the time came, Takao turned around and lay on his stomach. This wasn’t the first time they’d done it like this. Kazunari had fully expected the drag of carpet fibers against his bare skin. But that’s not what he felt now. He must’ve been laying on something incredibly soft and delicate. The unanticipated sensation felt amazing. And soon enough he was feeling amazing for other reasons altogether.

The reassuring heft of Shintarō on top of him, the drag and pull of Shintarō inside of him, Kazunari thought he’d been spent from earlier. He was wrong. _Oh boy was he wrong_. Just as Shintarō fell over the edge, Kazunari followed him.

When Takao came to his senses, he realized why he’d felt like he’d been rubbed up against the clouds. He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked down. Sure enough, it was cashmere. That fine, downy garment that had been caressing his nether regions -- that he’d just finished soaking -- was Shin-chan’s cardigan.

Shintarō stirred at Takao’s movement, he was still laying on top of the hawkeye though – ever the considerate lover - he was bracing most his weight on his knees and forearms and not on the man beneath him. He kissed the back on Kazunari’s neck, nipped at it, nuzzled it, momentarily getting carried away in a moment of intimacy and forgetting his tsundereness. He halted his ministrations when he noticed Kazunari was distracted, staring at something.

“You’re lying on my cardigan, aren’t you?”

Kazunari nodded because there was no point in denying the obvious.

“Did you enjoy it?”

Again Kazunari nodded. He might as well own up to it.

“Well then, it died a good and noble death,” Shintarō proclaimed before resuming his attentions and leaving a trail of kisses down Kazunari’s spine.

Takao’s jaw dropped. _Wow_ , he mouthed. He hadn’t seen _that_ coming. He knew post-coital bliss was a powerful narcotic, but he hadn’t expected that reaction. He thought for sure, Shin-chan was going to yell at him for ruining his fancy sweater. He lay his head back down; he wasn’t ready to part with the garment just yet. And apparently, Shin-chan wasn’t ready to part with him just yet, ether.

Shintarō’s trail of kisses reached the small of Kazunari’s back and continued marching onward.

“Uh, Shin-chan?” Takao asked because this sort of thing hardly ever happened. Midorima lifted Kazunari’s bottom.  

_Fuck._

* * *

**AN1:**  Sorry for the late update guys, I've been writing MidoTaka prompts on [Tumblr](http://jmetmisc.tumblr.com/), so you'll be glad to know it was for a good cause. So, um, certain people requested smut *cough, cough* [yokofujioka](http://yokofujioka.tumblr.com/) *cough, cough* I figured Kazu needed a little TLC after the day he's had. 

 **AN2:** So the Black Cat delivery service is actually a real thing in Japan (though that's not its real name). Incidentally, it has what I consider to be [the cutest corporate logo ever](http://theessentialmannyc.tumblr.com/post/17901342185/yamato-transport-logo). 


	5. Bites, Boo Boos, and Bandaids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shin-chan plays doctor, sort of.

Takao Kazunari woke up in his bed. He knew he hadn't fallen asleep there the night before. He was still naked, but quite toasty.  _Someone_  had wrapped him up in the duvet like a high-thread-count burrito. He burrowed further into the covers. 

The last thing he remembered, he was lying on his belly sandwhiched between the carpeted floor (Shin-chan's cardigan to be precise) and his tsundere, rocking back and forth -- his toes and fingers digging into the wool fibers beneath him -- while he very vocally urged his husband to,  _for the love of all things holy, Shin-chan, DON’T STOP_. Kazunari smiled. It was a nice memory, one he wanted to hold on to for  _um_ , contemplative reflection in the shower later.

He gazed sleepily at the site of their former love nest and noticed that the cardigan was gone. No doubt Shin-chan had disposed of it, put away the bottle of their favorite lubricant, and gotten rid of all other traces of their lovemaking. Takao was sad to see the sweater go -- of course, they couldn't very well have kept it after what he’d done to it last night. 

While he was contemplating the fate of his cashmere friend, his bedmate walked in from the  _en suite_  bathroom, barefooted with a viridian towel securely wrapped around his trim waist. Kazunari’s smile widened as he gazed up at his breathtaking spouse.

Shintarō leaned in towards his husband, breathed him in the way one would take a deep inhale of fresh mountain air, and planted a minty kiss on his temple. "Go back to sleep,” he susurrated in his sinfully deep baritone, pushing Kazunari’s bed-ruffled, dark raven locks back. “It's still early," he said.

The hawkeye was floating on air at the moment. Shin-chan was always more amorous, more outwardly affectionate in the early mornings when the tsundere thought his spouse was half-asleep and too dream-addled to remember a thing. He was so very wrong about that. It was Kazunari’s delicious little secret.

As Shintarō pulled back, the prone man reached for his husband’s wrist. "Do your best today, Shin-chan," he said.  

For his efforts, Kazunari was rewarded with a small smile. "I'll be home early," he told him. "We can go checkup on that idiot together." Kazunari squeezed Shintarō's wrist before letting it go. He gazed lovingly at his husband’s terryclothed derriere as the man retreated to their walk-in-closet to get dressed for work.

###

His children were creatures of habit. They had kitchen cupboards filled with expensive china -- some of them family heirlooms which, provided they survived their stint in  _this_  household, would be passed down to said children -- and yet their daughter would eat off of exactly one plate, a faded, Ketty-chan melamine number.

His son was more adaptable. When it came to food, he ate everything Papa put in front of him (and some things Papa  _didn’t_  put in front of him) and couldn’t care less what you served it on. He'd always been an affable chap, but even he had his predilections.

There was this cat toy. It was now collecting dust on a shelf in the nursery, but before that Kichiro had been attached to it for  _weeks_  after they’d gotten back from their summer vacation until he’d lost it. Papa eventually found it when he’d cleaned out his car at Daddy’s importunate insistence, but by then Kichi-chan had moved on to a stuffed hamster Grandma Midorima had given him. And Kazunari continued doing nightly readings of  _Three Billy Goats Gruff_  complete with distinctive voices, sound effects, and easily misplaced finger puppets, when available. He still had no clue why his kids loved that story so much.

 _Yes_ , his children were creatures of habit, except when they took it upon themselves to try new things. Midorima Keiko was literally crying over spilt milk at the moment. She had wanted to use a big girl cup. The cup itself was a cheap, plastic, highlighter-green memento from  _Kobayashi's All You Can It and Drink Extravaganza_. It said so, right there, printed on the face of the tumbler. It was from a local, family restaurant they had once visited with Uncle Tetsuya and Uncle Taiga precisely because of the "all you can eat" tagline. Kagami, the bottomless pit that he was, had put that moniker to the test and needless to say it had been their first and only visit given that the owner, Kobayashi-san, had come out of the kitchen and politely banned Taiga from ever setting foot in his establishment again.

Keiko-chan had begged Papa for a straw ( _Papa no! The pink one!_ she had emphatically insisted) and that was when things took a tragic turn. When the cup and straw combo proved too tall for her to drink from, Keiko-chan leaned over her high chair and in her effort to reach the straw with her mouth, she proceeded to topple the plastic tumbler of milk onto the floor. Then came the waterworks and the pointing, because she wanted the prized chalice back in her possession as quickly as possible.

"Why are you making Papa bend over?" Kazunari complained to his toddler, clearly still feeling the effects of last night’s ravenous activities. He was beginning to think that three times in one night had been a bit much, except for the fact that it had also been a hell of a lot awesome. There had been a monster in his bedroom last and Kazunari was going to leave the door open and leave a plate of oshiruko-flavored cookies to entice him back again tonight.

Kichiro, who was sitting in his own high chair, felt that he too should participate in this new drinkware experiment and proceeded to toss his bottle overboard and join his sister in her chorus of unhappy wails.  

Standing in his large kitchen, encircled by a surround-sound cacophony of squalls, Kazunari was of the opinion that his children were restless and bored. 

The autumn weather at the moment was as indecisive as a Danish prince in a Shakespearean tragedy. On some days it felt almost like it was summer. On other days, like today, the mercury had plummeted and it was much too cold for their daily walks to the park. It had made their incidental interaction with other tiny visitors to the tot lot a thing of the past. 

Takao couldn't help but think that maybe his children could benefit from a bit of socialization with peers their own age. The only other youngster they were properly acquainted with was the Aomines' baby. At four-months-old, Dai-chan was still very much an adorable little blob of cinnamon skin and shockingly pink hair. He was also breastfeeding like a champ. Takao could just imagine the dinner table conversations at the Aomine household. He wasn't convinced Daiki was adapting so well to having to share his favorite "fun bags," as the man in blue had once elegantly referred to them. He was probably sprouting things like, _The only one who can drool on Mommy is me_ , or some such nonsense. Kazunari wasn't sure. They rarely saw the Aomines now that their perfect evening consisted of getting eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Takao didn't envy them, he remembered when Kichiro was that tiny and didn't miss the colic or the sleepless nights.  

While Takao was all for the introduction of playdates, the idea of fraternizing their children with other similarly-aged children filled Shin-chan with the kind of doom and gloom usually reserved for post-apocalyptic scenarios.

 _Shin-chan, it's going to happen eventually_ , Takao had tried to reason with his stubborn and transparently overprotective spouse. _I just don't think they're ready yet_ , Midorima had declared with the kind of certainty that signified that the issue had been decided. What Shin-chan had meant was that _he_ wasn’t ready yet. The only thing that had been determined, as far as Kazunari was concerned, was that Shin-chan would make a terrible mother bird. Evidently their hatchlings were never leaving the nest, if Shin-chan had his way. The only reason the tsundere hadn't brought up homeschooling was probably because he couldn't do it himself and thus begrudgingly agreed to enroll their little tykes in Uncle Tetsuya's kindergarten class when the time came, but that was still _years_ down the road.

Takao had tried to sneak in a little hobnobbing on visits to the park, but he had to rely on happenstance and couldn't schedule a formal playdate without telling his husband who'd probably insist on vetting the prospective playmate and his or her parents.

Sensing that his children were suffering from a bit of cabin fever, Kazunari took both of them out of their high chairs and bundled them up for a trip to the art supply store.

###

"Wave goodbye to Daddy," Takao said to the children in the backseat as his drove past Shin-chan's place of employment on their way home.

When the kids were babies (well, smaller babies, Takao was firmly of the opinion that Keiko-chan and Kichi-chan were still very much babies), he used to think it was adorable to have them wave goodbye to Shin-chan whenever they drove past the hospital.

"I miss Daddy," Keiko declared from her car seat. Kichiro joined in on the sentiment by squealing at Papa.

Then she added, "I wanna see Daddy!"

"Me too," Kazunari agreed. On occasion, he had brought the children to visit their father at his office, but those were always pre-planned excursions (and usually coincided with the kids’ scheduled checkups with the pediatrician) where Shin-chan was expecting them and had cleared his day.

Shin-chan was at work and Kazunari couldn't very well disrupt his practice by dropping by unannounced and interrupting his afternoon consults. Takao didn't think Shin-chan was in the surgical ward at this hour. Shin-chan always scheduled his surgeries in the morning. Thus, barring especially complicated cases, he would be back in his office in the medical complex annexed to the hospital at this hour.

In any event, it couldn’t be helped. Takao couldn't bring the children to see their Daddy, but he could offer them the next best thing, "Who wants candy?"

###

"He can't be around them," Shuzuko said of her boyfriend. "He gets nervous. He develops stomach issues." Shuzuko was relaying her ongoing misery to her brother.

"Perhaps I could recommend a specialist," Shintarō commented. He had a gastroenterologist in mind.

"Mother wants me to stop seeing him," she said disheartened.

Truthfully, this was nothing new. Sazuna had been singing the same tune for months. The hapless suitor had earned the ire of his girlfriend’s parents ever since he was a no-show a few weeks back when they had gone out to dinner as a family to celebrate the acceptance of Shintarō's paper for peer-review. Considering what an unmitigated calamity that evening had been, Shintarō wished he himself had missed it.

"Perhaps you should give it some consideration," he gently suggested, switching the mobile to his shoulder so he could unlock the front door, his other hand was holding his briefcase.

"I thought you were on my side," she complained.

"Of course I am, Ani," he assured her. His loyalties shouldn't even come into question. He was far closer to her than he was to either of his parents or any of their blood relatives. "It's just that Mother may have a valid point," he said. The words felt alien in his mouth. Then again, even a broken clock was right twice a day and he’d once read that chimpanzees clacking away on typewriters would eventually produce Hamlet if given enough time.

“It's not _his_ fault Mother and Father make him _uncomfortable_ ," she said. The word “uncomfortable” was an understatement, the mere sight of Shinzo or Sazuna sent the young man whizzing to the nearest men’s room. “Mother and Father did not approve of Kazu-nii either,” she reminded her brother. “And you never gave him up,” she said.

Shintarō would’ve given up his left hand before he’d given up Kazunari and he would’ve given up Shinzo and Sazuna before he’d resorted to such drastic measures. But that was beside the point; his little sister was confusing mediocre apples for prized oranges. 

"Mother and Father are a fact of life," Shintarō underscored to Shuzuko. "It's not like they're going to go away. You need a partner who can put up with their idiosyncrasies," he said, putting it mildly. “Kazunari can hold his own. He’s not intimidated _by_ and doesn’t run away _from_ Mother and Father.” Not for the first time, he was reminded how very lucky he was to have a partner like Kazu who was willing to put up, not only with him, with his appalling parents.

Midorima opened the front door to his penthouse apartment and stepped into the genkan. He switched on the lights. Directly above him was that damn chandelier still hanging from its place. He signed in annoyance. "I’m here," he told his little sister. “Give it some thought,” he said. “And Shuzuko,” he waited for her to acknowledge him. “I am _always_ on your side,” he told her before hanging up the phone.

"I’m home," he announced to a seemingly empty penthouse.

"We're in here, Shin-chan," Takao called from the guest half-bath just off the living room.

In hopes of entertaining his homebound children, Kazunari had turned to arts and crafts. They had made what an art connoisseur could’ve appropriately titled _Spectacular Mess_ in the medium of finger paints. 

Kichiro grinned widely at Daddy. He was covered head to toe in green paint (well, the parts of him that hadn't hitherto been clothed). He was like a duckling caught in a non-toxic paint spill. Kazunari had stripped the infant of his romper and diaper and sat him down in the sink basin. The baby was now splashing greenish water at Papa.

Keiko wasn't fairing much better. She had gotten pink hand prints on Papa's favorite pair of jeans, while patiently waiting her turn to get cleaned up. When she saw Daddy, she excitedly flung herself at him. Shintarō didn’t hesitate in picking her up. What good were bespoke Italian suits if they couldn’t be sent off to the cleaners to remove a bit of finger paint? 

###

Midorima was sitting on the Carrara marble floor of the master bathroom with Kichiro on his lap blow drying the tot's dark downy mane. The infant was sticking his tongue out trying to “catch” the air from the blow dryer that had been set on low. Shintarō had just finished ridding the baby of all that green paint and had wrapped him up in a viridian towel that was part of a set in the master bath.

He'd already dried their daughter's hair and Papa had carried Keiko off to her room to help her get dressed. Keiko was at that age where she wanted to do everything herself. Of course, she couldn't button up buttons or zip up zippers yet, but that didn't stop her from trying or whining when Papa tried to assist her. 

"Here you go, Shin-chan," Takao said upon his return. He handed his husband a tiny orange jersey.

Midorima took the shirt his husband was offering and inspected both sides. The hawkeye was holding a drowsy Keiko who was nuzzling Papa's neck. The little girl was wearing a white version the same jersey.

"I didn't know what to do about the numbers, so I got them each a 10 and a 6 in home and away colors."

Daddy pulled the sleeveless jersey over the baby's now dry head and led each pudgy hand through the arm holes. It fit perfectly. "Where'd you get these?" he asked. They were exact replicas of the ones he and Takao had worn all those years ago.

"I ordered them online. It's from the same place Kuroko buys his."

"Buys his? You bought our children _dog_ jerseys?"

"They’re tiny jerseys, Shin-chan. Who cares who they’re meant for. You gotta admit they're really cute."

"Well," Midorima agreed, at least internally that Takao was right, "that's beside the point." 

###

Kise had unwisely ignored his backache. By the time his friends came to check up on him, he couldn't roll out of bed.

"Thanks for coming over, Midorimacchi," he said.

"This isn't my specialty, you know," Shintarō reminded him as he sat beside Ryōta on the bed and helped him out of his shirt. Neurosurgeons worked on brains, which Ryōta was clearly lacking.

"I know. But it's nice to have a doctor look at it."

"Idiot. Don't you have your own doctor?"

"He doesn't make house calls."

"Neither do _I_ ," Shintarō said raising his voice.

After a cursory inspection of the affected area and after much whining from Ryōta, Shintarō had a diagnosis. The pilot had a sprained back, any flunky med student or freshly minted physician could figure that out.

"I'm in agony, Midorimacchi," the blond reported to his not-doctor.

"Well you wouldn't be if you had sought immediate medical attention like you're supposed to," Shintarō said, starting to put his implements back in his medical kit.

"It's obvious you've hurt your back,” he told his friend. “You'll need bed rest, muscle relaxants, and powerful painkillers until this whole episode is behind you."

"I feel like I've descended onto the vows of hell," Kise said dramatically.

"The _vows_?"

"Yeah, you know, the 'vows of hell.' It's from a book or something."

"It's 'bowels' you jackass. Were you dropped as a child or something?"

Kise pouted at the comment. "That's not funny, Midorimacchi. I told you that in confidence-ssu."

Takao came into Kise's bedroom with a teary-eyed Keiko clinging to Papa like an unhappy koala. She'd tucked her right arm between her torso and Papa's, clearly protecting it from something.

"Hey Kise," Kazunari said, pausing near the door. He tried not to sound the alarm, but Midorima was already up and walking towards him in response to the toddler’s odd behavior. "Where do you keep your first-aid kit?" The hawkeye attempted to sound casual about it.

"Under the kitchen sink, why--" Ryōta started to say, but Midorima interrupted him.

"Where's Kichiro?" Shintarō asked his husband, already carefully inspecting their daughter’s arm. He was in both worried-father and medical-doctor mode -- a very tense combination.

"He's in the playpen." _For now_. Kazunari wasn't sure how long that empty plastic bottle of mineral water was going to hold the infant's attention. Of course, Papa had brought toys for the children to play with, but they had grown bored of them.

There were no children's toys in Uncle Ryōta's bachelor pad. There were lots of model airplanes his kids would just love to break, _er_ play with, but there weren't any actual, age-appropriate toys. As it was, they had to drag up the collapsable, travel playpen from the car in case either of the children would be so kind as to take a nap. So far, there had been no volunteers.

"What happened?" Shintarō naturally wanted to know.

Keiko, who Papa had quieted down after the incident, started crying again now that Daddy was fussing over her.

Shintarō took hold of their toddler while Kazunari explained.

There had been a bite, a boo boo, and hopefully soon a bandaid. And wailing. There had been lots and lots of wailing. A whole lot of top-of-the-lungs, full-volume wailing. "Like, remember that time she pinched her finger on the bottom drawer of your nightstand?" Shintarō nodded, because who could forget that. "Like that." Kazunari was frankly surprised his husband and friend hadn't heard any of the commotion that had taken place in Ryōta's living room.

There had been a snatch-and-grab. The victim didn't want to let go of her dolly. The perpetrator had left teeth marks behind. He was now serving his time playing with a plastic bottle behind mesh walls.

Shintarō took over the medical care. He had iodine in his medical kit which was much better than any over-the-counter antiseptic Ryōta would have.

Even though he knew iodine did not sting the way other decontaminants did, that didn't stop Keiko from howling like a wolf pup on a full moon when he passed a swab of it over her nipped arm.

Tragically, Uncle Ryōta didn't have Ketty-chan bandaids. It was a travesty, really. But he did have ones with little airplanes and white puffy clouds on them ("Seriously, Kise you're like a child," Daddy had grumbled). Given the lack of options, the toddler picked those over the boring ones Daddy had in his do-not-touch bag.

Sensing he'd already lost his doctor to another patient. Kise tried to regain Midorima's attention.

“Midorimacchiiiiiiii," he whined. "What about my back paaaaain?"

"Ah, thank you for reminding me," Midorima said.

Kise raised a confused, perfectly shaped eyebrow. It wasn't like Midorima to thank him for _anything_.

Midorima almost placed Keiko on the bed next him. But seeing as how his ridiculously attractive, already topless friend was lying atop silk sheets and how the toddler was already making grabby hands for her pretty, honorary uncle, Shintarō reconsidered his course of conduct and handed her off to her father to hold while the tsundere reached for his medical kit.

He pulled out his prescription pad and Ryōta's eyes started to sparkle. _Finally_ , he was going to get some heavy duty pain killers.

Shintarō wrote on his prescription pad and tore the page off.

"Here you go," he said handing it to the prone man, and then taking hold of his daughter who seemed to need a bit of coddling from Daddy.

"Thank you so much, Midorimacchi," Ryōta said of the folded piece of paper now in his hand. "I'll get Yukio to go down to the drugstore and fill it later."

"Yukio?" Shintarō asked. He hadn’t expected to hear that name. "Your old captain, Yukio?"

"Yuki- _kun,_ " Kise quickly corrected himself. "You know. That great cleaning gal I snagged from you guys," he said chuckling self-consciously. "She's coming over later to straighten up." He gave Midorima his most winning smile. That photo-ready grin may have befuddled most mortals, but most mortals were idiots and Midorima was immune to it.

Shintarō frowned. "I'm familiar with that person, yes. Though I've never heard her described as such," he said, not at all convinced by Ryōta’s retraction.

Kise unfolded the piece of paper his friend had given him. "Hey!" He complained. "What's this?"

"It's the phone number to a general practitioner who  _does_  make house calls."

"Midorimacchi's so mean," Ryōta cried out.

"I'm not your doctor, idiot. I'm a  _brain_  surgeon. You are of no use to me."

Kazunari left his spouse and his spouse's childhood friend to their usual bickering and slipped out of the bedroom. Now that Keiko was squared away and back in Daddy's arms, Kazunari returned to the scene of the crime to go check on the tiny prisoner.

"Kichiro," he said firmly, taking the baby out of his playpen. "No biting okay? It's not nice." It wasn't much by way of admonishment, but it was pointless to discipline a 17-month-old. 

Kichiro tried to stuff the business end of the bottle he’d been playing with into Papa's mouth. 

Takao smiled. "Alright," he chuckled. "I can take a hint. You want Papa to shut his trap." He kissed his son's forehead, gently tapping his diapered bottom. "But no more biting, understood?"

Kichiro babbled nonsense back which Kazunari took as affirmation.

"Alright. Now that we've come to an agreement, let's go see what Uncle Ryōta has in his fridge for us exercise our choppers." Like most parents, the hawkeye carried snacks for the children on him at all times. They were in his messenger-bag-turned-baby-bag, but he thought he’d entertain the baby for a bit by rummaging through Uncle Ryōta’s mostly empty kitchen cabinets.

Kazunari knew from his earlier visit to Chez Ryōta that there wasn't much by way of food here, unless one considered a homemade avocado mask sustenance, but he had left some fortune cookies behind and hoped they hadn't been gobbled up by Ryōta's "sister" who now not only had a name, but had turned out to be someone they all knew.


	6. Friends and Lovers - Friends, then Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takao and Kuroko go to lunch with Kise and get more than they bargained for. Shin-chan gets blackmailed into being nice to the infuriating blond and still loses his temper.

They were having lunch with their friends at a rooftop, garden cafe in Ginza. The weather being as unseasonably chilly as it was meant that the restaurant's outdoor seating area was not an option for all but the bravest (or hungriest) of souls. The majority of the diners had flocked inward, overwhelming the smaller number of tables inside.

To compound the foot traffic problem, it was also a Saturday and many nippy Tokyoites had decided to spend their day some place toasty shopping and eating indoors. Needless to say, it was elbow-to-elbow crowded in the small eatery. Or in Kise’s case, it was ass-to-elbow. “Will you _stop_ standing so close to me,” a seated Midorima snapped at Ryōta. They were just outside the bistro waiting for the restaurant pager they’d been given to go off. Shintarō was carrying both children and so he’d been allowed to sit on the small divan reserved for the elderly and expectant mothers.

The top floor restaurant happened to share space with the home-and-garden section of a well-known department store that was housed in all the remaining floors of the building. This was most fortuitous for Kazunari who was still a man in search of a very large crate. He popped over to see the department manager while his party waited to be seated. 

Spending the better part of the week in bed had done wonders to recharge Ryōta's batteries. By the time the weekend rolled around the bubbly blond had made a spectacular recovery. He was back to his usual chipper, peppy self - or as Midorima had described him, _an annoyance and a nuisance_.

Po- _tay_ -toh, Po- _tah_ -toh, Kazunari was just happy his friend was feeling better.

Not that Ryōta had ever been low-energy to begin with, but now, he was practically bouncing with energy and running his mouth like a gag order had been lifted, so much so, that Kazuanri was glad he'd had a pep talk with Shin-chan before they’d left their apartment to meet up with Ryōta and Kuroko. The seemingly omniscient hawkeye knew his tsundere would surely find a vibrant and high-spirited Ryōta especially irksome. 

Kazunari didn't need to consult Oha Asa to predict that Gemini would get on Cancer's nerves today (to say the least) and so he'd put into place a bit of ground work back home.

 _Now Shin-chan_ , Takao had said to his displeased spouse while they both were getting dressed.  _I didn't want it to come down to this_. Kazunari, of course, was lying through his teeth. This was exactly the sort of bribe and coercion he  _loved_ resorting to, the kind of intellectual foreplay where he cranked up the heat by placing a titillating idea in Shin-chan’s pretty head and then let the thought simmer on the back burner knowing the both of them would be dwelling on it until the sordid thing came into fruition.

 _If you behave_ , even though they were alone, he'd cupped his hand over the sourpuss's ear and whispered his carefully chosen next words (Takao liked to play up the theatrics),  _I will do . . . dirty . . . filthy . . . despicable things to you._   

Shintarō swallowed thickly. It was plain to see Kazunari had gotten the man’s undivided attention. After all, they’d both been standing in their underwear in their walk-in-closet. The hawkeye was bursting with self-satisfaction, having gotten a rise out of his prim and proper husband. 

 _Go on_ , the tsundere had said, hoping to encourage his impish spouse to elaborate further.  

Kazunari had grinned smugly at the man. The hawkeye was most pleased with himself.  _I will do that thing I did to you that first night when we were in the Maldives and you were all grumpy-faced cause the airline lost our luggage_.

In truth, the flight crew of the rickety seaplane they'd taken from Malé to their resort in Kuda Huraa hadn't “lost” their luggage so much as had had to dispense with it. They'd flung it over the side of the puddle-jumper in order to ensure a quasi-safe, if very shaky landing. Their baggage hadn't been lost at all. It had simply been floating somewhere in the Indian Ocean.

And if Shintarō had been stone-faced afterward, it had been because they'd almost lost their lives, not just their equipage. Strangely enough, having a near death experience -- having almost lost each other -- had amped up both their libidos and Shintarō had been up for anything that night so long as it was with Kazunari. Once Takao struck the match, it became a raging inferno in between their hotel sheets. 

 _You know that thing you pretended to be all scandalized about, but secretly you were so into_ , Kazunari had said with an unholy growl. The man's voice could be sinful when it suited his purposes.

Shintarō’s jaw had dropped because clearly he'd married an incubus.  _I'll do that to you again, Shintarō,_  Kazunari had purred, deliberately using his husband's proper name.  _If_ , he had paused for emphasis, _you behave with Ryōta today_.

Kazunari was brought back to the here-and-now by the fact that he'd had to adjust the linen napkin on his lap.  _Oh fuck._  He needed to not think back to this morning right now, although that hungry look Shintarō had flashed him when he'd gotten up from the table hadn't helped matters. 

The restaurant, unimaginatively named "Catch of the Day," specialized in seafood platters. It boasted an impressive fish tank at the entrance of the establishment. Shin-chan had taken Keiko-chan and Kichi-chan to go gape at the pretty fishes swimming in all those gallons of water. Incidentally, now that they had all placed their orders, this was also where the kitchen staff would be fetching the "ingredients" for their lunch.

Shin-chan's departure with the two younger Midorimas left Kazunari, Kuroko, and Ryōta at the table.

Kagami was working at the firehouse this weekend and sadly couldn't join his friends and boyfriend for lunch, but Kuroko had promised he would stop by the station later with his leftovers (Tetsuya ate like a bird and therefore there would be plenty of them. He might even snag Ryōta's plate since the blond had evidently pledged a lifelong commitment to being runway ready at all times) and so the redhead wasn't too bummed about being left out.

Now that it was just the three of them, Kazunari leaned toward his friend conspiratorially and said, “Spill it, Ryōta.”

“What?” the blond squawked.

“You heard me,” Kazunari responded. “We know you’ve been dating Kasamatsu-san,” he said, having already let Kuroko in on the gossip almost as soon as he’d learnt it. 

"Dating?" Kise laughed self-consciously. "What? Senpai and I aren’t like that," he insisted.

 _Honestly_ , Kazunari threw his hands up in the air dramatically, flopped back on the booth before quickly sitting up again and leaning towards Ryōta. He didn’t have time for the full-scale dramatics. He didn’t know how long Shin-chan would be gone before one of the kids acted up.

"Kise,” Kazunari said patiently, because years and years of living with Shin-chan had made him a _very_ patient man, “You’re talking to a gay man,” he pointed to Kuroko. “And a bisexual man who is in a same-sex marriage,” he pointed to himself, then pointed vaguely in the general direction Shin-chan had walked off to. “If you can't come out to us,” he reiterated, “who can you come out to?"

Ryōta’s initial hemming and hawing gave way to a full blown elaboration of what the former model had been up to with his former captain. Ryōta relayed his bedroom exploits and antics in explicit detail. And so far, they’d only had that one encounter in Ryōta’s apartment.

Kuroko turned pleading eyes on Kazunari as if to say,  _make him stop_ , which was hypocritical of Kagami’s shadow considering that Kazunari had had to sit through many a sordid tale of a hungry man and his tiger.

"It was spectacular," Ryōta insisted. _It really hadn't been._

The blond put his hands out and made some vague, jerky circle-type gesture neither of his companions knew what to make of. "It was amazing." _It wasn't that either._

“It was ground breaking.” _There had been one broken soap dish._ If Shin-chan were here, he'd say something along the lines of  _And they entrust a giant metal cylinder filled with jet fuel to you, you ignoramus_ , or something like that.

"It was the best sex I've ever had." _It hadn't been. Not by a long shot._

“It went on and on,” Ryōta said. _That part was true though it had more to do with the fact that they'd had to take a break in the middle of things because Yukio had gotten a leg cramp._

"It was like time stood still." _What happened after the leg cramp was four to seven minutes of spectacularly mediocre sex, but Ryōta was none the wiser because it was Yukio and he'd been wanting to climb that quick-tempered tree since their first meeting._

Kazunari laughed, of course, because Kise had gone from  _we're just friends_ to  _let me tell you everything about our misguided attempts at fornication in excruciating detail_ quicker than you could say “leg supporters.” Now that the spiky-haired horse was out of the barn, it seemed Ryōta was _not_ holding back.

Also, Kazunari was finding all these bedroom accolades hard to believe, especially for a first encounter. He knew from his own experience that the truly phenomenal sex came later. First-time sex wasn’t great, no matter how gaga he’d been and it took time and practice to build a rapport with his partner.

"Pics or get the fuck out," the hawkeye said and Kuroko turned wide eyes at his foolish, dark-haired friend. On any other person it would've been the equivalent of dropping their jaw on the table and gasping loudly.

"Actually," Ryōta said, taking his phone out in response to Kazunari's statement. 

When Ryōta reached for his phone, Tetsuya threw in the towel, or rather the linen napkin.

"No," Kuroko said. "Just. No. Put that thing away," he stated as if Kise had dropped his pants at the table and was ready to show his wares and for once in his life the Phantom Sixth Man garnered the attention of others, in this case, the diners nearby. In fairness to Tetsuya, though, they'd probably already been finely tuned in, given the salacious nature of Ryōta's running mouth.

Kuroko put his face in his hands, like he couldn't take it anymore. "Kise-kun," he said quietly. "Don't you have a diary you could write in?" This was Tetsu's polite way of saying, _shut the hell up you're making my ears bleed_. 

They did not learn whether or not Ryōta was penning his own, steamy romance novel because just then Shin-chan returned to the table with a barefooted, screaming infant. Actually, they could hear him approaching all the way down the hallway.

“What happened?” Kazunari asked as he reached for the baby.  

“Kichi-chan,” he said over the squalls, “decided he wanted to go for a swim with the fishes and when I wouldn’t let him, he started kicking and knocked over the floral display.” He’d wet his socks and his shoes with the water in the vase.   

Kazunari pressed his lips tightly, willing himself not to laugh. He fumbled about in the messenger-bag-turned-baby-bag and handed his son a toy hamster from there. That seemed to quiet him down. He was probably just hungry.

Midorima secured Keiko into her booster seat next to Papa. He handed her a nautical-themed paper placemat and a small box of crayons the hostess had given him. After some judicious consideration, she selected a green crayon and began to color a cartoon crab and a bit of the white table linen.

“Get out of my seat, idiot,” Shintarō said to Ryōta who’d seated himself comfortably next to Kazunari.

Takao locked eyes with his husband and Midorima suddenly changed his tune. “I mean, you can stay there,” he said. “I’ll just sit here next to Kuroko.”

“Gee thanks Midorimacchi!” Kise said brightly. He wasn’t used to such niceties coming from his crabby friend.

When the food arrived, Kazunari fed the baby mushy rice. Kichi-chan ate it right up. “You like that, don’t you,” Kazunari cooed at his little boy. “It tastes good cause it’s first harvest rice,” he said to the infant. Keiko-chan was not so convinced. She mostly pushed her food around on her plate and continued coloring her green crab (which may have reminded her of Daddy) until Papa starting making her take small bites.

Midorima had ordered the salt-grilled sanma off the restaurant’s seasonal menu. Ryōta had been deeply dissatisfied with his own meal. The blond had been told that the restaurant did not offer onion gratin soup, but had plenty of matsutake mushroom bisque. It came in a clay teapot, he’d been told as if that were a selling point.

When Midorima squeezed a bit of lime juice on the fish’s crispy skin, Ryōta commented how mouthwatering Midorimacchi’s meal looked.

“Then you should’ve ordered your own, idiot --,” Midorima began to say and then he remembered what Takao had told him. He picked up a small dish where the sweet potato croquettes had been served before they’d all disappeared onto each of their plates. He transferred a few chunks of fish with his chopsticks on the dish and handed it to Ryōta.

Ryōta took the dish and smiled like the buffoon he was. “Midorimacchi has given me an indirect kiss,” he teased, as he plopped the white pieces of fish into his mouth.

Shintarō narrowed his eyes at the obnoxious man at the table. “I’ll give you a direct punch in the –-”

Kazunari cleared his throat and the words died on Midorima’s lips. “Would you like so more,” he offered tersely to Ryōta.

“Aww. Thank you Midorimacchi,” Kise beamed handing the small dish back to his friend. In his zeal to hand over the dish to Midorimacchi, Ryōta bumped into Kuroko. “Sorry, Kurokocchi,” he said. “I forgot you were here.”

Midorima wanted to crack the ceramic plate over Ryōta’s head, but instead he wordlessly added a few more pieces of fish before handing it back.     

“Midorimacchi,” Ryōta said. “Could you please pass the limes.” 

“Get them yourself,” Shintarō responded automatically. Then he looked over to Kazunari and amended his answer. “Here you go,” he said handing a small, shallow bowl of limes to Ryōta. “Would you like some of my daikon as well?” He added for good measure.

“Sure thing, Midorimacchi.” As Ryōta reached for the radishes, he knocked over his bottle of mineral water. The bubbly beverage ran across the table and made a beeline onto Shintarō’s lap **.**

“You idi –-” he started to say and then he stopped himself. “Here,” he said. “You can have my water.” Shintarō plopped the glass highball in front of his infuriating friend.

While the adults behaving like children were trying hard not to bicker (Kise-kun looked like he was about to cry while Midorima-kun looked like his green-haired head was about to explode from pent up, unexpressed anger), Kuroko decided to entertain the _actual_ children with a magic trick. He used his talent for misdirection to make the underutilized cap on Kise-kun’s bottle of mineral water disappear. Keiko-chan clapped her hands while a delighted Kichi-chan giggled.

When Shintarō finally got around to attending to the mess on his lap, Kazunari was already on it, patting it dry with his own napkin.

Shintarō grabbed his husband’s wrist. “Stop that,” he muttered. “That’s very distracting.” _Because really it was._ That pep talk Kazunari had given him while they were getting dressed this morning had been lying in wait just below the surface this entire time.  

Shintarō reached for his phone in his pocket, hoping it wasn’t waterlogged. Though the way things were going, he wouldn’t be surprised if he were in need of yet another one. He’d already replaced it twice this year. The first time was when his son had decided to pitch it into the toilet in the half-bath off the living. More recently, it had been his husband who’d cracked the screen when they’d had their misadventure locked out on the terrace. 

He felt a familiar buzz against the tips of his fingers. He fished it out to see who’d sent him a text. "Damn it, Takao," he huffed. "This is all your fault for teaching her how to send text messages."

"Who?" Ryōta wanted to know. 

Shintarō paid no mind to his nosy friend and began fiddling with his phone. As he was contemplating whether to ignore the text or send a strongly worded one himself, another one came in -- it was a shame he couldn't tell her to ‘go die,’ the way he could to Ryōta, the histrionics alone would not be worth it.

Then three of them came in, all in quick succession.  _Grr!_   He wanted to throw the infernal contraption into the fish tank clear across the room. In the good old days, Shintarō was content to let his mother's phone calls go to voicemail and allow her messages to clog up his voice mail, and then, with a simple, press of a button he'd get rid of all of them and it was like she'd never called.

Her text messages were a bit harder to ignore. For one thing, his phone required him to open them before he could delete them and invariably something she'd texted would catch his eye and annoy the ever living excrement out of him.

Sure enough, the first one was a complaint about his little sister avoiding her calls. Just as he was trying to read the next one, another text came in.  _Damn it to hell_ , she wasn't going to stop. "Here," he said to Takao, handing him his sopping napkin back. "I better call my mother. She's going to do this all day until I respond."   

"Why is Midorimacchi so upset at getting texts from his mother?" A clueless Ryōta asked Kazunari after Shintarō had left the table.

"It’s complicated," Takao explained, not caring to elaborate except to say, "You know my sister? The one Shin-chan refers to as a train wreck?" 

Ryōta nodded because Kazumi had certainly made herself memorable at her brother's wedding, so much so that Ryōta had gotten an earful from that leggy Brazilian lingerie model he'd brought as his "plus one."

"Well, if anything happened to Shintarō and I, the kids would go to _her_ , before they'd go to Shin-chan's parents," Takao said.

Ryōta raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow in response, apparently thinking Kazumi shouldn’t be trusted with anything more than a plastic houseplant.

In reality, the children would go to Kazunari's parents first, then Shuzuko, _then_ Kazumi (with strict, preprinted instructions on how to raise them), then finally, Midorima's parents, but only because otherwise they'd end up wards of the state and once was plenty.

Ryōta opened his pretty mouth to say something else and Kazunari decided it was best to change to subject.

"So,” Takao said. “You and Yukio have plans for the rest of the weekend?" He felt Kuroko kick him under the table. He didn’t care, it was worth it. 

In response to the question, Kise's golden eyes sparkled with unbridled joy. _Ugh_ , he was so bright, it was blinding.  

"Well," he said, “Yukio has the kids this weekend, but next weekend,” he began prattling. 

Kuroko rolled his eyes at Takao who merely shrugged and shifted the baby to his other arm so he could get comfortable. They were going to be here for a while.  

###

Midorima came home from work to find an enormous wooden crate impeding his path. It was almost as tall as he was and directly above it, was that damn chandelier still hanging from its place. “Kazunari!”

“Relax Shin-chan. It’s temporary. Just walk around it.”

While Daddy had been annoyed to find a wooden crate in the entryway, his children had been fascinated by it. Papa had picked each of them up and pulled them over his head so they could peer inside it. There wasn’t much to see, it was filled with packing peanuts.

Kazunari was sitting on the floor of the living room with the children, putting together a puzzle that was no more than ten pieces. It was possibly down to nine, now that Kichiro was chewing on one of them.

“Daddy!” Keiko called out as she ran towards her father at full speed and didn’t stop until she bumped into his knee.

Anticipating her trajectory, because really this was how he was greeted on most days – it made coming home so much sweeter -- Shintarō dropped his brief case on the floor to free his hand. She threw her hands up for Daddy to pick her up. Shintarō followed suit nuzzling her, before kissing her on the cheek. “Daddy,” she giggled. “That tickles,” she protested and then stuck her neck out so he could do it again.

Kichiro dropped his puzzle piece and followed in his sister’s footsteps. He too wanted to get in on the action. Shintarō scooped up the infant and blew a raspberry on a tiny sliver of exposed belly. Kichi-chan chortled.

Kazunari smiled to himself, he could just eat them up, the three of them. He picked up the discarded puzzle piece and wedged it into place. Now that Kichi-chan had chewed up the corners, it wasn’t a perfect fit.

Keiko pointed to the now completed puzzle and said, “Grandma.”  

Shintarō smiled at his brilliant toddler. “That’s right,” he told her. “That’s where Grandma Midorima lives.”  The street in front of Shintarō’s childhood home was lined with ginkgo trees. And while the picture on the puzzle was of a generic row of ginkgos, he was pleased to see his toddler make the connection.

“No,” Kazunari corrected. “She means your mother was here earlier.” Sazuna had brought the puzzle and a few other things for the children after Kazunari had mentioned to her over the phone that the kids were restless. “Sorry you missed her,” he said.

Shintarō walked over to Kazunari who was still sitting on the floor. He bent over, kids in tow, and kissed the top of his husband’s head. “Well I’m not,” he said. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged into this quarrel between his mother and his sister.

After dinner, the family returned to the living room. Keiko loved games and one of her favorites of late had been playing telephone with her fathers.

"Shin-chan. Keiko-chan has something she wants to tell you," Kazunari told him, holding their toddler up to her very tall father. Kichiro was sitting on Daddy's lap babbling to himself.

The infant was playing with one of those multi-colored balls that had various geometric shapes cut out on its surface. It was supposed to teach him spatial relation and hand-eye coordination by matching the different-shaped plastic blocks into the corresponding holes. But Kichi-chan had not yet mastered one of life’s basic lessons – you couldn’t fit a square block into a round hole – and so the infant had decided it was best to try and see how many of those blocks he could stuff inside his mouth. This being an age appropriate toy, he didn’t even get one.

"Go on," Kazunari coaxed Keiko-chan. "Tell Daddy what we practiced," he said and then whispered something in her ear.

"N-nanny," Keiko grinned trying to remember what Papa had just told her. "Nanodayo," Kazunari supplied.

"Papa, tickles," she said in between giggles. "Nannydaddy," she told to Shin-chan.

Midorima lightly poked her in the belly. The little girl laughed gleefully. "Are you teasing Daddy?" He asked playfully.

She shook her head vigorously in response. “Noooo,” she said, laughing even louder.

"Don't learn things from Papa. He's a terrible influence."

"Hey," Takao protested.

“What’s with the crate, Kazu,” Shintarō asked of the eyesore in the genkan --the _other_ eyesore, the one that wasn’t hanging from the ceiling.

They were under the covers in Keiko’s four-poster bed. Having concluded story time, they were talking in hushed tones with a sleeping Keiko between them. The baby was dozing comfortably on Shintarō’s pajama-clad chest.

“It’ll be gone tomorrow,” Kazunari said of the wooden box and of the chandelier.

###

Shintarō came how to a wooden crate impeding his entry and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. “Kazunari!” he groused.

“I can’t do it Shin-chan,” Takao said handing him a teary-eyed Keiko. The toddler buried her face in Daddy neck, her tiny nose cold and snotty.

“What’s the matter?” an alarmed Shintarō asked his toddler. Keiko sighed deeply like she had the weight of the world on her tiny shoulders. “No,” she pouted and resumed burying her face against Daddy’s neck.

Kazunari had had all his ducks in a row this afternoon. He’d had the electrician Kagami had recommended, the maintenance man, the plasterer to fill in the extra holes in the ceiling the medallion would leave behind, and four other workers to guide the heavy yet fragile light fixture into a shipping crate filled with packing peanuts. He’d even scheduled a pick up that day with the Black Cat delivery service.

The kids had been excited to see all those people in the apartment. That was until Keiko realized _why_ they were all there.

Kazunari knew his daughter had been fond of the sparkly lights. He’d even expected a small tantrum, one he could quickly redirect with a song or a story. He hadn’t anticipated the visceral outburst she’d given. It was like he was separating her from her favorite toy.    

“I called your mother,” he told a concerned Shintarō who was rubbing his little girl’s back in small soothing circles. “She said if Keiko likes it so much, we could keep it.”

 _Well, that was magnanimous of her_ , Shintarō thought. The adjective he thought best described his mother was selfish, although self-absorbed was a close second.

“If,” Kazunari said, “we buy her a replacement.”

“Naturally,” Shintarō said. It was only fair. He’d call his accountant and have him cut her a check tomorrow.

“And,” Kazunari said and this was the kicker. He knew his husband was going fly off the handle, “if we let her have one overnight visit with the children.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Shintarō said.  Sazuna often complained that when it came to the children, Shintarō treated her and Shinzo like second class citizens. The children slept over their other grandparents’ house all the time, but they had never once had a sleepover at Grandma Midorima’s. His mother claimed that Shintarō was using the children to punish her. Shintarō was of the opinion he was doing no such thing. She just hadn’t proven herself worthy or trustworthy.

Kazunari expected this gut reaction from Shintarō and frankly he was not going to get in between his husband and his parents. Far be it from him to lobby in favor of Shinzo and Sazuna. He had his own gripes particularly concerning the way they had treated their son that first year of medical school. But at the same time, Kazunari knew his limits where his own children were concerned and he’d already prepared his answer, “Then _you_ tell our daughter you’re taking away her stars. I’m not going to do it,” he said.

He left the children with their father and went to the walk-in-closet to change into his running gear. It had been an emotionally draining day for him and even though it was drizzling outside, he really needed to go for a run.

“Dinner is on the stove,” he told Shintarō as he pecked him on the lips. “I’m going out for a while. Don’t wait up.”

Shintarō grabbed his husband’s wrist on the shorter man’s way out the door, he squeezed it. To the hawkeye, who was used to Shintarō’s reserved nature, it felt like an embrace. “You’ve got your reflective band,” he asked Kazunari.

Takao flashed his high-visibility, construction cone orange running belt at his spouse. The smile he gave Shintarō was tired and weary, just like he felt.  

Hours later, Kazunari came home to find the crate sitting behind the doorman in the lobby. His stomach sank. He hadn’t been particularly fond of the light fixture, but he hadn’t wanted to break his little girl’s heart either.

He came home to a dark apartment. When his flicked the light switch on, to his surprise, the chandelier was still securely in its place. He’d never been happier to see the showy light fixture.   

 “What happened?” Kazunari asked when he walked into the quiet master bedroom. Shin-chan was still up. He was sitting in bed reviewing a patient file on his tablet. “I called the doorman and he got rid of it for me,” he said referring to the crate.

“What about the chandelier?”

Shintarō tapped the screen. “I called my mother and told her if she wants a sleepover, the four of us will be there.”

“Shin-chan,” Kazunari said. He was so happy, he could cry. “Does Keiko know?”

“About the sleepover?”

“About the stars.”

“Of course. We said good night to them before going to bed.”

Kazunari put a knee on the bed and kissed his husband’s temple. “Thank you, Shin-chan,” he said.

“I’m sorry I let you deal with all that by yourself,” he said and really he was. Kazunari had been running around for weeks, putting all that effort into trying to rid their home of that chandelier. Midorima grabbed his husband’s arm and pulled him forward in a way that said, _I’ve missed you. Come to bed._

“Nuh, huh,” Kazunari said, pulling back. “I’m sweaty. Let me shower first.” He brushed Shintarō’s fringe off his forehead and smiled at him. “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” he said planting a kiss on his husband’s lips that was fully of promise.  

###

The next day they were headed to Kuroko and Kagami's apartment. They had just seen Kuroko on Saturday, but Tetsuya had called Kazunari up suddenly during his morning break at school. He’d invited the Midorima family to come over for dinner, seemingly out of the blue. 

"We've told our families and Himuro-san who's practically a brother to Taiga-kun, but among our friends, we wanted you two to be the first to know," Kuroko said.  

Kazunari was so overcome with joy for his friends he got a bit teary-eyed. He knew this was something Taiga and Tetsuya had both wanted for a very long time and for various reasons had had to wait until now. 

"Let me see!" Kazunari said reaching for Tetsuya's hand. The ring itself was a simple band, but so much more precious for its significance. High school sweethearts were finally tying the knot.

"We're going to wear these for now," Tetsuya explained of the matching circles, "and then we'll exchange a second pair when we wed," his voice cracked on the last word. And Kagami -- who was enormous to begin with, but looked even more so beside Testu hugged his petite fiancé, kissing the top of his spiky blue hair. 

Keiko who’d been playing on the carpet with Nigō, sensed the commotion coming from the adults at the table. She walked over to her parents. Kichi-chan was sitting on Daddy’s lap drinking his bottle.

"Papa?" Keiko asked her father. She looked worried, no doubt unable to understand the tears. Kazunari picked her up. He made sure to grin at her so she'd know Papa was happy, Papa was  _very_  happy. "Uncle Tetsu and Uncle Taiga are going to get married." He told her. "Just like Daddy and Papa." 

Keiko-chan who'd only ever known Uncle Tetsu and Uncle Taiga as a packaged deal, kind of just shrugged and went back to playing with the pup, but not before Papa stole a smooch on the cheek.

To be fair, it was hard to explain the concept of marriage to a two-year-old, even a two-year-old with the complete set of Ketty-chan bridal party dolls. 

Now that he saw his daughter playing with the Nigō, Kazunari laughed. Those tiny basketball jerseys he'd ordered for the children did look like dog jerseys. 

###

The children fell asleep on the car ride home and after they’d put them in their respective beds, Kazunari walked up to his husband who'd picked up a medical journal from his nightstand to read.

Kazunari brushed his lips against Shintarō's. It wasn't a kiss, but it was one of the many intimate ways Kazunari touched him that sent Shintarō’s pulse into the stratosphere.

"Let's go to bed," Kazunari said with a mischievous smile. “I’d like to relive that thing in the Maldives.”

Shintarō swallowed thickly as he locked eyes with his spouse, dropping the already forgotten journal on the carpeted floor.  

* * *

 **AN1:** ~~I think we've got about two more chapters left in this fic.~~ For those of you who are interested in reading Kise and Yukio's story, it's called [**Fools Rush In, Idiots Linger**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4880893/chapters/11190376) and it will be updated as part of the series. Thanks for reading my fics.   

 **AN2:** If anyone is curious as to what happened in the Maldives, you can read it here,  **[Paradise Lost](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4664187/chapters/12294566)**. **  
**


	7. Coming Home to Roost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sazuna gets her way, but she and Shintarō get more than they bargained for.

Perhaps it was simply because he was a November baby, but Kazunari loved this time of year. He loved the cool, crisp air, the colorful fall foliage, the comfy sweaters, the special food items on restaurant menus and coffee shops. It was a delight for every one of his senses and he could go on and on extolling the virtues of the season that was, hands down, his favorite time of year. There was just something richly invigorating and life affirming about autumn and Kazunari was someone who wholeheartedly enjoyed life.

Despite having a surplus of strollers at home, it was oftentimes easier to maneuver around the throngs of weekend shoppers without one. And so Kazunari was carrying their daughter in his arms, while Shintarō had the onbuhimo strapped to his chest with the baby in tow.

They were browsing the meticulously organized shelves of a Belgian confectionery in Ginza intent on purchasing a box of gourmet, handmade, exquisitely packaged chocolate truffles as a hostess gift for Sazuna. After all, they were heading over to Shin-chan's parents' house for dinner afterwards and spending the night.

It was like going on a date where one of the parties didn't want to go at all and had been blackmailed into doing so by the other. But this was the standard, modus operandi between Shintarō and his mother. If Sazuna wanted to see the children, she had to clamor for days until Shintarō finally relented and brought them over. He hardly ever invited his parents to the penthouse. Of course, that didn't stop Sazuna from dropping by on occasion when she knew her son was at work and Kazunari was home with the children.

Ordinarily, Shintarō would never have allowed his children to spend the night with his parents. Tonight’s sleepover was the markup on the price of one already _very_ expensive chandelier. Kazunari doubted his father-in-law had had a hand in orchestrating any of this, but, as expected, his mother-in-law had had her manicured fingers all over this pact.

As it was, this nocturnal agreement had been a brokered compromise between Sazuna (who wanted her grandchildren to sleepover) and Shintarō (who refused to permit it unless he and Kazunari came with them). In the end, Kazunari suspected Sazuna got everything she’d wanted anyway (the children plus Shintarō), which was why they were _all_ spending the night. His father-in-law may have been the one with all the advanced degrees and professional accolades, but his mother-in-law was no dummy. Sazuna could play mental jujitsu with the best of them.  

Kazunari had known Sazuna since he was sixteen and he never would have described her as “maternal” – conniving, calculating and controlling, _sure_ – but not maternal. When he and Shin-chan had talked about adopting, they'd naturally discussed the possibility that Shin-chan’s parents would play some limited, detached role as grandparents or perhaps none at all. What they hadn’t expected was that Sazuna would take a shining to her grandchildren as soon as they'd brought the babies home. As it was, Sazuna was anticipating tonight’s visit with bated breath. Kazunari knew this because they’d been in contact all week about the arrangements.

The hawkeye could hardly blame her. In his unbiased opinion, his kids were the absolute best. His heart swelled with thoughts of them. His children were lovely and delightful and irresistibly adorable and funny and _no one_ was immune to their obvious charms (Daddy and Papa were more than a little smitten with their tots). But Shin-chan was ever suspicious of Sazuna. He was always guarded when it came to his mother and extremely protective when it came to his children. And so he was understandably apprehensive about tonight.  

The shop smelled heavenly and the master chocolatier was handing out cacao-based treats handsomely wrapped in foils the color of falling leaves -- burnt orange, gold, and maroon -- for his customers to taste.The glass display cases showed all manner of seasonal, chocolaty treats of various shapes and sizes. There were caramel sea salt chocolates shaped like maple leaves, pumpkin spiced ones shaped like, _well_ pumpkins, and truffles. Lots and lots of truffles in white chocolate, milk chocolate, and sinfully-rich dark chocolate. Those were Sazuna's favorites -- perhaps because she too was sinfully-rich.

For all of Shin-chan's moping, Kazunari took things in stride. He figured an overnight visit to Grandma and Grandpa Midorima's couldn't be helped and was prepared to make the best of it. His husband, however, was determined to wear a scowl on his comely face and make it perfectly known to _everyone_ that he was dragging his large, designer-shod feet all the way to his parents’ house.

Keiko-chan, evidently taking her emotional cues from her father today, was wearing a miniature scowl which Kazunari couldn't help but find endearing on her rosebud lips. Years of prolonged exposure to Midorima Shintarō had made Takao Kazunari most susceptible to pouts. He'd developed a weakness for their understated charm.

And perhaps it was her tiny moue that drew the attention of the apron-clad, elderly shopkeeper to the child in Kazunari's arms. The man came over with his tray of samples and friendly demeanor hoping to entice a smile from the toddler in exchange for a treat.

Kazunari thanked the kind man for his attentions while Keiko-chan gazed with quiet suspicion at the stranger. The toddler took the pumpkin spice praline sample Papa was handing her and put in her mouth. She promptly spit it out.

The hawkeye laughed at his scowly faced pipit. You'd think he'd given her a lemon wedge to suck on. "She's _loooong_ overdue for a nap," he explained to the concerned octogenarian who was probably of the opinion that all kids liked chocolate (and ordinarily she did).  

Then the hawkeye popped the discarded treat into his own mouth and found absolutely nothing objectionable about the delectable, bite-sized, morsel.

Kazunari smiled at his little girl. "You gave Papa an indirect kiss," he teased. Keiko-chan rolled her pretty, kitten-gray eyes at Papa. She was in _no_ mood for his antics.

He chuckled. By now he was used to dealing with small children. Sometimes they were grumpy for reasons that had nothing to do with the present activity. These observations applied equally to 195-centimeter-tsunderes as well.

The shopping excursion was taking too long and Keiko-chan was starting to fuss. "We're going to see Grandma Midorima," Kazunari cooed at her, trying to sound really happy about it. She saw right through his ploy.

 _Yeah_ , Kazunari wasn't really feeling it either. He couldn't sell the feigned excitement to his kid. 

The unhappy toddler sighed, then buried her face in the soft collar of Papa's lightweight sweater. A persimmon number Daddy had given him for White Day (Daddy loved Papa in orange for some reason). It was made of only the finest vucaña chin hairs. Daddy was silly that way. When it came to buying presents for Papa, he tended to go extravagantly overboard. Maybe it was easier for him to tell Papa he loved him this way. 

Kazunari kissed the top of his toddler’s head and gently rubbed soothing circles on her small back. 

Judging from the chocolaty ring she'd been sporting around her pouty mouth, Kazunari was certain Keiko-chan would be leaving behind smudgy, lip prints on the sweater Daddy had given him, which was fine because absolutely, under no circumstances, would he ever discourage nuzzling. In any case, he'd packed extra clothes in his overnight bag and would change when they got to his in-laws' house. As for the sweater, Papa knew a very good dry cleaner.

They were real miracle workers, those cleaners, and in the past had been able to remove baby spit up, melted lollipops, non-toxic pink markers, finger paints, watered-down organic grape juice, and on one occasion even oshiruko. Kazunari was there so often, they knew him by name and he'd even accumulated enough points to earn a gold level, loyal customer discount card. In fact, he would be seeing them this coming week and could drop off the soiled sweater then.

The children were children. They didn't have all those years of resentment and all that history. They were simply bored of shopping all day. The present gloom in the air had nothing to do with their impending visit to Grandma and Grandpa Midorima. If Sazuna claimed the children preferred Takao's parents, it was only because they spent more time with those sets of grandparents.  

Mercifully, Kazunari spotted his spouse and son approaching the front of the long line at the cash register. Shin-chan was carrying an elegant box of dark chocolate truffles and with his left hand he was lightly patting the baby’s diapered bottom.  

Kichi-chan had taken to gnawing the strap of his cloth carrier, which probably shouldn't be encouraged, but it was keeping him quiet. Even Shin-chan knew not to disturb an infant engaged in a harmless endeavor.

The hawkeye walked over to them. He shifted the hold he had on his daughter to one arm, so he could free up the other. He chatted up the baby strapped to his husband’s chest and rubbed tiny toes inside a socked foot. Kichi-chan babbled something back at Papa, not bothering to unlatch his mouth from the drool-logged strap.

Kazunari smiled at the baby. He remembered what Kichi-chan was like at three months old when they'd first brought him home and how tiny he'd seemed. He remembered how he and Shin-chan had needlessly fretted about a much smaller Kichi-chan falling out when they took turns carrying their son in this same onbuhimo. He was a bigger, sturdier baby now who could walk and talk (though he was not the chatterbox his sister was) and loved to play and cuddle and gave his parents so much to be proud of.

Papa gently pushed the infant's dark downy hair and kissed the baby in his carrier.He then reached for his husband's left hand and took it. He squeezed Shintarō’s fingers.

Shin-chan was not big on PDAs, but the shop was so crowded Kazunari doubted anyone would notice and if anyone did, he couldn't bring himself to care. It should be perfectly obvious from their close, casual interactions -- by how perfectly comfortable they had been moving in and out of each other's personal space while they'd browsed for chocolate -- that they were a married couple out on an afternoon shopping trip with their children.

"Look," he told him. "I know you don't want to go. It's no picnic for me either. But it's _one_ night. And it'll make your mother happy."

"She's never happy," Shintarō grumbled as he and Kazunari moved forward in the line. And while his spouse certainly had a point, Kazunari chose to ignore it.

"By tomorrow morning, it'll be over," the hawkeye said. "And then you can go back to ignoring her calls."

###

Shintarō made a left onto a familiar, wide street lined with ginkgo trees. The cool autumn air had turned the fan-shaped leaves a gorgeous saffron-yellow hue creating a leafy golden path against the dark asphalt that led to the stone fence around his parents' property. As he approached the premises, he pushed a preprogrammed button beneath the rearview mirror of his luxury sedan to open the front gates. Shintarō pulled into the long driveway and continued driving until he reached the large, two story structure with the cobalt blue roof tiles.

After he’d parked the car and turned off the ignition, he gripped the steering wheel tightly. Kazunari, ever the vigilant hawk, placed a hand on his husband’s thigh. “Are you alright?” he asked. 

Shintarō looked in the mirror at the children asleep in their car seats.“I hate this,” he admitted. “I hate how she always gets her way.” He tensed up some more. “And now she’s bringing them into it. Pawns in whatever scheme she’s conjuring up.” He sighed as he reluctantly let go of the steering wheel. “I just hate the idea of her manipulating them the way she does my sister and I,” he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “All of this, this sleep over. She just wants to control me, the way she controls Shuzuko.”  
  
“Maybe,” Kazunari conceded. “Or maybe she just wants to spend time with you and the kids and this is the only way she thinks she can accomplish that,” he posited as he removed his own seatbelt.

They each exited the car and with practiced movements opened the rear doors directly behind them. The children had a tendency to fall asleep during long car rides and given that they hadn’t napped all day, they’d been out like lights almost as soon as Daddy pulled away from the valet parking stand near the chocolate shop.

Shintarō unbuckled his daughter from her seat. “Keiko-chan,” he murmured. “We’re here,” he said, handing her a Ketty-chan plush doll she’d evidently dropped in her sleep on the floor below her car seat. He kissed his sleepy toddler on the cheek, before picking her up out of her car seat.

On the other side of the car, Kazunari was doing the same thing. “Wake up sleepyhead,” he told the baby as Kichi-chan yawned in Papa’s face. It was a big yawn with a tiny, pink curled tongue which reminded Kazunari of a ferocious little lion. His son had a crease mark on the side of his face from his car seat support pillow and Kazunari made a mental note to remove the tag before they drove home.

The hawkeye handed Kichiro off to his father so he could take the chocolate gift box out of the car and unload the trunk. There was no such thing as traveling light when it came to jaunting with little ones. Kazunari always brought snacks and books and toys and art supplies with him no matter how brief the excursion because children inevitably got hungry or bored and oftentimes both. And even something as short as an overnight stay at Grandma and Grandpa’s required multiple overnight bags.     

“Hey, Shin-chan,” he said, catching up to his husband and children on the long walkway. “I know you’re concerned about your mother, but maybe you're overthinking it.” Kazunari shifted the bags he was carrying. “Grandma’s a pill, but she’s not going to use our kids. We won’t let her.”

Having lived here, Shintarō had a spare key to his parents' house. He rang the doorbell anyway. Sazuna must’ve been waiting for them because she answered the door herself. They exchanged formal greetings because Shin-chan had _very_ stiff, traditional parents. Kazunari put their luggage down for a moment so he could properly present Sazuna with her box of chocolates with both hands. He hoped he wasn’t breaching any rules of decorum he wasn’t aware of because unlike Shin-chan who’d been brought up with etiquette lessons up the wazoo, Kazunari had no ceremonial training.

The children were too young to be hindered by social niceties and Kazunari tried to coax a greeting out of his daughter. “Say hello to Grandma,” he prompted her.

Keiko-chan who was either sleepy or grumpy took one look at an expectant Sazuna and parroted back Papa’s words from not-five minutes ago. “Grandma’s a pill,” she said. 

Kazunari smiled tightly at his mother-in-law. “Kids these days,” he said, laughing nervously. “I don’t know where she got that from.” Sazuna plastered a smile on her pretty painted face and tried not to look too disappointed. 

They set their things down in Shintarō’s old bedroom and got ready for dinner. While Shin-chan got started on dressing the children, Kazunari changed his chocolate-stained sweater. When he had finished, he sat on the firm bed. “New mattress,” he announced mournfully, then took over the task of getting Kichi-chan into a different set of clothes.  

“It's been thirteen years,” Shintarō reminded him, pulling tiny pearls buttons from the buttonholes of Keiko-chan’s cashmere cardigan. Dinner attire for toddlers required washable fabrics and Papa had packed her a nice corduroy dress with puffy sleeves, pleats and a little bow. Shintarō then embarked on the daunting task of getting her into her black tights with minimal cooperation. Because Keiko-chan loved dresses and hated pants and anything that covered her legs were "pants" in her book.  

“Yes,” Kazunari said archly, a playful smile gracing his lips. “But it was a good mattress,” he lamented as both the conversation and a sweater vest went over Kichi-chan’s head. And apparently Daddy's as well. 

“I’m sure this one's just as good,” Shintarō assured him because his mother didn’t make second-rate purchases. He was now putting a matching bow on his toddler's head. Daddy was getting much better at doing Keiko-chan's hair, though Papa was still the resident expert. 

“ _No_ , Shin-chan,” Kazunari clarified, “I mean we had some really good times on that mattress.”

Shintarō pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, but he did not disagree with his husband.

###

Even though they were away from home, it was important to try to keep to the children’s schedule as closely as possible. And so for the benefit of her grandchildren, dinner was served an hour earlier than Sazuna was used to serving it.

As always, the meal was a sumptuous affair. The kind that was easy to pull off when one had a fully staffed kitchen and people to set the table and serve it.   

This wasn’t the first time they ate as a family at Grandma and Grandpa Midorima’s house and so the table not surprisingly included two high chairs and two sets of children’s plates, though Papa had brought Keiko-chan’s pink melamine kitty-shaped one from home because he knew from experience she ate off exactly one dish. Kazunari noticed there were only four adult place settings and was happy (and jealous) that Shuzuko had somehow managed to get out of a family meal. 

Kichi-chan was obviously enjoying his meal. He was eating it loudly, making slurping sounds and contented little humming noises as he cleaned up everything on his plate. The infant had insisted on feeding himself and ended up wearing much of his pumpkin purée. And then, for good measure, he decided to put the bowl on his head like a jingasa when he was all done. At that point, Papa gave up on wiping his son’s face after every spill and just decided he was going to wait until bath time to clean him from head-to-toe. If they’d been at home, he would’ve dispensed with a shirt altogether and allowed the infant to eat topless.

In comparison to her brother, Keiko-chan was a much daintier eater which was a lot easier to pull off when one picked at one’s food as opposed to actually eating it.

“ _Shin-chan_ ,” Kazunari complained. His husband, who was _supposed_ to make sure their daughter was eating her dinner, had gotten caught up talking shop with his father. Shop talk among medical doctors concerned pioneering new research studies on the pituitary gland and other boring mumbo jumbo.    

Heeding his husband’s warning, Shintarō dutifully addressed their toddler. “Keiko-chan,” he said. “Eat your pheasant.” 

“No.”

“Shin-chan,” Kazunari interjected because _truly_ sometimes his husband was hopeless. “She’s not going to know what pheasant _is_ ,” he pointed out. The hawkeye had always thought it odd that Shin-chan’s family ate pheasant. With it being the national bird and all, it seemed almost seditious to pour soy sauce on it.

“Keiko-chan,” Papa said. “Eat your chicken.”

“No.”

“Keiko-chan,” Shintarō stated. “If you eat everything on your plate you can sit on Daddy’s lap.”

“Okay,” said the toddler and Shintarō gave Kazunari a smug little smile.  

True to her word, Keiko-chan ate her meal of pheasant and wild rice, then promptly put her hands in the air for Daddy to pick her up. “Done! Daddy! Done!” she announced.

Daddy always kept his promises and sat her down on his lap while he continued his conversation with Grandpa.

Kazunari knew this angelic behavior was not going to last because their daughter would inevitably get bored, but for now she was entertained by staring open-mouthed, watching Grandpa and Daddy talk. 

No doubt she was fascinated by how much they looked alike (maybe she’d grow up to be a geneticist or a princess tiger fairy, which had been her most recent professed career aspiration), by how they both had deep rumbling voices, and how similar their mannerisms were. At this point in the conversation, it was like a ping pong match where each side would push their glasses up the bridge of their identical nose and then the other one would do the same. It was like a feedback loop of nervous tics. It happened mostly sequentially, but every once in a while they'd get their wires crossed and their movements would sync to comedic effect.

Kazunari stifled a laugh though his amusement was short-lived because soon his attention was diverted by his son who was summoning him by tugging on the sleeve of Papa’s sweater with his pumpkin-coated hands. He too wanted to be picked up out of his high chair. Kazunari did know what it was about high chairs but his kids did _not_ like sitting in them longer than strictly necessary. You’d think they were lined with tacks or something. 

Papa picked up his son who promptly used him like a wool napkin leaving orange streaks on his father’s chest. At this rate, Kazunari was going to run out sweaters before winter. This one was made from the soft, downy undercoat of Mongolian yaks. Another gift from Shin-chan. _Honestly, what was it with Daddy and his strange obsession with dressing Papa up like an exotic petting zoo?_

Kazunari tried to take the dinnerware off his son’s head and the infant screeched like a barn owl in protest. “Oh, alright,” Papa said, “but you are _not_ sleeping with that thing and it’s coming off at bath time so I can wash your hair.” Kichi-chan seemed content with the compromise because he began licking what was left of the pumpkin purée between his fingers and on his tiny palm like a cat. 

Sazuna, who had started to lean in and had been watching the interaction between father and son with rapt fascination, quickly pulled back lest her pretty silk kimono be in the jack-o’-lantern splash zone. She looked genuine worried that Kichi-chan might throw his hands up at her next.   

Kazunari almost felt bad for Sazuna because even though she’d obviously put a lot of thought into arranging dinner for her grandchildren (even if she didn’t do any of the actual cooking, Kazunari was sure she’d set up the menu), she didn’t know how to engage them.

There wasn’t really much for her to do as far as the meal was concerned. It wasn’t like she could feed the children herself. Kichi-chan had had a grand old time feeding himself and as a rule, Keiko-chan had to be coaxed by Papa or Daddy to eat.

It was as if she didn’t know what to do with her grandchildren. Kazunari’s own mother was much more at ease with the children. After all, she’d raised two of her own and had no qualms about getting her hands dirty while feeding them and changing them and spoiling them rotten.

While Sazuna was also a mother of two you, wouldn’t know it by the way she gazed longingly at the children, but was unable to reach for them.

###

After dinner, Shinzo and Sazuna retired to the sitting room while the rest of the family went to wash up. 

Shin-chan’s old bedroom did not have an _en suite_ bathroom. Kazunari didn’t have one growing up either, though oddly enough, it was something he’d grown accustomed to and now deemed it indispensable having had one living with Shin-chan in their college apartment and now their penthouse.

And so they headed down to the hall bathroom to bathe the children. Grandma had left guest towels out, but Kazunari brought bath toys from home and towels shaped like a froggy and a duckling which made the whole operation run smoothly. 

After the children were toweled off, their hair had been blown dry, and they’d been placed in comfy flannel pjs, Papa changed his sweater _again_ and headed downstairs with his family. 

Shinzo offered to pour his son and son-in-law a glass of single cask, 17-year-old whiskey, served straight. Ordinarily, Kazunari would jump at the chance for some liquid barley to dull the pain of having to deal with his stuffy in-laws, but Shin-chan took the snifter first and Kazunari figured it wouldn’t do if they were both drinking tonight.     

Instead, he decided to undertake the endeavor of breaking the ice between the children and their genteel grandmother.

At home, the children played on the carpet in the living room and while Kazunari was sure the floor of Sazuna’s drawing room was as sterile as an autoclave, he didn’t expect Grandma Midorima to get on all fours and play horsey with the children. And so he tried a different approach.

He set the children down on the ground and sat close to his mother-in-law on the overstuffed loveseat. To put her at ease, he engaged in ordinary, adult chit chatter with her which Sazuna was most comfortable with. It wasn’t difficult. Shintarō's mother and Shintarō's husband were both social butterflies. They were also both on the hospital fundraising committee which itself was a font of gossip and so it wasn’t hard for them to find a common topic of conversation to latch onto. 

The children naturally gravitated towards their father and Kazunari fully expected them to come to him. And when Kichi-chan brought his toy fire truck over to show Papa, Kazunari prompted the infant to show Grandma as well.

He explained to Sazuna that Kichi-chan had recently discovered fire trucks when they saw one blazing through the emergency lane while they'd been sitting in run-of-the-mill, mid-afternoon grid lock. He explained that one of their friends was a fireman and that as soon as the weather got warmer, he and Shin-chan were going to take the children to visit him at the station and that his friend even offered to arrange for a ride on one of the fire trucks. 

As Papa talked, Kichi-chan continued to play with his truck making vroom, vroom noises and drooling a bit. Kazunari held his breath as his son proceeded to play on Sazuna’s lap. The infant ran his fire truck back and forth, treating the intricate embroidery on his grandmother’s silk kimono like traffic lanes and thank goodness he left no tire marks on the exquisite garment.

The hawkeye even allowed a delighted Sazuna to pick his son up, but when Kichi-chan went straight for his grandmother’s pearl necklace, Kazunari intervened because he knew what that strand meant to her. Like all women of her station, Sazuna had gobs of jewelry, but this one was her most prized possession. It had been a present from Shintarō’s father on their first wedding anniversary, back in that brief, happy period of their marriage. 

Keiko-chan soon came over as well, curiously drawn to the three of them sitting together on the love seat. As a general rule, it was easier for Sazuna to engage her granddaughter because Keiko-chan was a very girly little girl who loved pretty things like ponies and pink and pinafore dresses, just to name a few things. Sazuna understood her perfectly.

It also helped that Keiko-chan was older and more gentle than her rambunctious little brother and so she was less likely to scream or kick or engage in other breaches of etiquette ( _not unheard of_ , just less likely). Keiko was also a chatter box who’d now learned to tell stories and so Kazunari left her and Grandma to talk about how Princess Ketty-chan saved the billy goats and the troll and they all crossed over the bridge.

Kichi-chan, who was now sitting on Papa’s lap, would try to chime in whenever his sister was forced to take a breath. The toddler looked genuinely miffed by the tediousness of breathing and immediately went back to trying to monopolize the one-sided conversation with Grandma.   

Everything was going beautifully, much better than Kazunari had expected. Both the children and Sazuna seemed more relaxed now than they had been at dinner and seemed to be taking a sincere interest in each other. Everything was going swimmingly until everything went to hell in a hand basket. _And how._

###

It all started when Grandpa, whose whiskey had left him all red-faced like a pickled plum, turned in for the night. Ordinarily, Shinzo leaving a room was a welcomed sight for the hawkeye, but this left Shin-chan without someone to converse with.

The tsundere walked the span of the large room and joined his family on the other side. There was no room for him on the overcrowded loveseat, but there were plenty of stuffy chairs and so he took one near his mother.     

Kazunari could tell his husband (who suffered from the same red-faced family malady as his father when he’d had too much to drink), had only had that one snifter of whiskey. Still it had proved enough to loosen his lips and when Sazuna made the grave mistake of lamenting Shintarō’s sister’s absence from tonight’s family gathering it was like lighting a match inside a powder keg. _And oh man was there carnage._  

“You want know why Shuzuko’s not here? Why she avoids your calls or why I don't return them? It’s because you never put the time in when we were children.”

And it only got worse from there.

“And you want know another thing? You want to know why I don't trust you with the children?” Shintarō shouted.  
  
Sazuna nodded her elaborately coiffed head as if daring him to say it, as if Shintarō was an enraged bull and she was a matador waving the red flag.  
  
“Because you left us. That's why.”

Sazuna may have played the role of demure wife and mother in public, but she was not one to hold her tongue in her own home when properly provoked. And Shintarō had certainly piqued his mother. “I was not in a good place,” she shouted back.  
  
“You were home with your two young children,” Shintarō reminded her. “You were _exactly_ where you we supposed to be.”

“I was _not_ in a good place!” She repeated.

“Nanny Hamasaki tracked you down at a _spa_ in Hokkaido. Shuzuko wasn’t even walking yet. I can’t, I can’t –” Shintarō was so angry he was tripping over his words. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to see you go? To not know whether you were coming back or if we'd see you again?”

Shintarō’s voice was breaking and so was Kazunari’s heart. There was raw pain in his husband’s words and Kazunari did not want to leave him when he was like this, but he had to prioritize their children. They did _not_ need to hear any more of this. All this shouting was clearly upsetting to them, and it was upsetting to him too because Shin-chan was clearly hurt.

Kazunari knew Sazuna leaving was a sore subject for his husband. It was something they hardly ever spoke about and for someone as emotionally reserved as Midorima Shintarō to be engaged in a shouting match about it, must've been agonizing for him.  
  
He decided now would be a good time to take the children to the playroom in case Shin-chan needed some time alone to compose himself in his old bedroom.

The playroom had been Aunt Shuzuko’s old nursery. She, like her brother, had a seldom used bedroom at her parents’ house. But the nursery had been where she'd spent the first few years of her life. It still had some of her toys and baby clothes (the ones that were not handed down to Keiko-chan). It still had her rocking chair and her changing table. About the only thing missing was her crib. That was in Kichiro’s nursery at home.

Whether it was superstition or family tradition the crib was something that was passed down from one generation of Midorimas to the next. Takao didn't know how far back it went -- it was certainly grand enough to suggest it was very old -- but it had held Shinzo and Shintarō before Shuzuko’s tenure.  
  
Shin-chan's childhood home was made of sturdy construction, none of that cheap drywall and so the nursery was blessed quiet even though Kazunari was under no illusions that his husband and mother-in-law had come to some sort of quiet, mutual understanding. If anything, it was quite the opposite. Now that they didn't have to be mindful of an audience, they were probably really letting the other have it. Boy was he envious of Aunt Shuzuko for having missed _this_ dinner. 

###

Shintarō woke up to the patter of rain just outside his window. It was like he'd gone back in time. He was at his parents’ house and in his old bed, his old room. He stared aimlessly at the ceiling fan above his head, or rather, he would've done so if everything didn't look so blurry. He reached for his glasses on the same nightstand where he used to keep them.

Even though he hadn't slept here in thirteen years, it was obvious someone still tended to his room. It didn't smell musty like it had been boarded up and only recently aired in preparation for this overnight stay. But it didn't feel lived it either. Of course, it wouldn't be. There was no one left here except his aging parents and their household staff.

Not everything was the same, of course. A lot of things were different. For starters, there was a rollaway crib in his room now. It wasn't a permanent furniture piece, but one designed to fold easily and be moved around. He wondered if his mother had always had one or if that too had been purchased in preparation for their arrival.

The baby was sleeping soundly in the crib and Shintarō could hear his rhythmic breathing, soothing little puffs of air. Kazunari was on the opposite side of the bed and their daughter was asleep between her fathers. When he'd tiptoed in last night, Shintarō had found the three of them conked out on the bed with their well-worn copy of _Three Billy Goats Gruff_. 

At some point, Shintarō's childhood bed had seemed enormous to him, but clearly he'd outgrown it. It was a tight fit with the three of them and that wasn't even taking into consideration that Keiko liked to move around and kick in her sleep.

Shintarō didn't like to encourage co-sleeping for obvious reasons. They were a married couple and in addition to that, he needed his forty winks so he could be in top shape for work. He didn't sleep well with one or both of the children between them. The children, however, tended to fall asleep sooner and stay asleep longer whenever they slept in their parents’ bed.

He shifted his gaze and noticed Kazunari was awake and looking at him. 

“Hey,” the hawkeye whispered, mindful of the slumbering tots. “How’d you sleep?”

“Terribly.”

“Yeah, me too.” Kazunari confided. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a dump truck.” What Shintarō meant was that he felt like he’d been hit by an _emotional_ dump trunk. Because last night, after Kazunari had left the sitting room, there had been one doozy of a revelation. “My mother was not at the spa like Nanny had told me.” Nanny Hamasaki, bless her heart, had had the unfortunate tendency of sugarcoating things when it came to the children. “She was at a treatment center, Kazu.” Shintarō sucked in his breath, because even now it didn’t feel real. He felt Kazunari each for him, gingerly so as not to wake Keiko, he took Shintarō's left hand and squeezed.  
  
“How do you feel about that?”

Shintarō pondered the question. “I don’t know.” He answered truthfully. Looking back on it now, the pieces started to fit. His mother had been unhappy for years, she'd had a new baby, and he'd been too young to figure it out.  

Whatever his mother’s failings had been, up until that point she'd been his one constant growing up. His father came and went as he pleased, but she was there until one day she left. “She broke my trust,” he said, “and things between us have never been the same since.” And it was true. Even when she came back, Shintarō wanted nothing to do with her. He loved and he didn’t want her to hurt him anymore.  

Kazunari starting rubbing circles on the back of his husband’s large hand, with his thumb, he traced Shintarō’s wedding band. Shintarō resisted the urge to pull back. He _hated_ talking about this, but most of all he hated that look on Kazunari's face when he did. Like he felt sorry for Shintarō, like he just wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and hug him and never let anything bad happen to him again.

As a medical doctor, he was grateful she had had the foresight to do it. _And the strength_. Because seeing it for the first time from her perspective. It must not have been easy. To pick up and leave her children. Now that he was a father himself, he could never do it. And yet he also knew that his mother had been miserable over his father for as long as he could remember and that that had probably been her breaking point. 

“I love you, Shin-chan,” Kazunari said, breaking the silence in the quiet room. Shintarō felt that what Kazunari meant with those words was that he would never leave him. To Shintarō’s relief, Kazunari did not let go of his hand. 

“I love you too, Kazu.”

They laid about in bed like this listening to the rain outside until the baby started stirring. At that point, Shintarō walked over to the crib and picked him up and after he’d changed him the four of them stayed in bed like this for a little while longer.

###

Eventually they headed down to breakfast. To no one's surprise, the buffet table had been set up in the dining room and the spread was befitting a five-star hotel restaurant.  
  
Also to no one's surprise, Shintarō and his mother were behaving as if nothing had happened, as if they hadn't been engaged in a shouting match last night.  
  
Every family was different Kazunari had come to realize over his many years being privy to all the dirty laundry, scandals, slights, fights, and squabbles in Shin-chan’s family.  
  
The fact that Shin-chan and his mother could pretend none of those things were said last night was unnatural to Kazunari, but it wasn't astounding. After all, he'd known these people for a very long time. He and Shin-chan had been inseparable since they were sixteen and Kazunari would sleep over often and come along on family trips. How Shintarō’s parents didn’t realize they were dating was beyond him. Then again, those two wouldn't recognize a healthy, happy relationship if it bit them in the ass. 

Every family was different. In Kazunari’s family everyone aired grievances and disagreements right then and there, no sense letting it fester for days or in Shin-chan’s case years.

Kazunari was feeding Kichi-chan a square of tamagoyaki from his plate, but he was really staring at Shin-chan. He _loved_ this man. He'd done so for a _very_ long time.

But the love he felt for Shin-chan at sixteen was not the love he felt for him at thirty (and soon to be thirty one). _I’m sorry you had to go through that_ , he’d told him when they were lying together in bed with the children dozing between them. And he meant all of it. His father’s philandering, his mother's abandonment, _and_ last night’s revelation because that must not have been easy for Shin-chan to hear.

He hadn't always loved Midorima Shintarō. In fact, Kazunari had harbored quite the opposite feeling until they'd started playing on the same team. And then it hadn't taken very long for the hawkeye to begin swooning and pining over his teammate.

At sixteen, Shin-chan had been a beautiful creature, preternaturally talented, unbelievably hardworking, and seemingly beyond Kazunari’s reach. And yet -- miracle of miracles – Kazunari’s feelings had been returned.

He’d known back then that winning Shintarō’s trust had been an extraordinary thing. He had seen it in the gobsmacked faces of Shintarō’s Teikō teammates when he and Shin-chan had started executing cooperation plays on the court. He’d seen it on Akashi’s stupid mug in that gut wrenching game against Rakuzan where they had debuted their Sky Direct Three Point Shot.

Kazunari had learned then that before he came along, Shin-chan had been someone who trusted _no one_ and placed his faith only in himself. Years later, he learned why.

What Kazunari hadn't known back then, what he couldn't possibly have known was that when Midorima Shintarō had taken that leap of faith and placed his heart in Kazunari's hands it hadn't been intact. It had already been torn. It had already experienced pain and betrayal and rejection and abandonment.

Midorima Shintarō was an extraordinary human being, Kazunari knew this. He’d been a star athlete and an exemplar student. He was an accomplished pianist. He saved lives on a daily basis. Yet what truly made Shintarō a miracle, in Kazunari's opinion, was that despite everything he’d gone through, despite his rocky childhood, he’d still had the courage to place his heart (his faith, his love, his trust) in Kazunari's hands.

And it had remained there with Kazunari faithfully protected, zealously guarded ever since. Takao Kazunari loved this man. _Oh how he loved this man._

“Shintarō.” Shinzo, oblivious to last night and the only adult at the table who'd had a good night's rest, asked his son to pass the bowl of pickled vegetables. Shintarō complied and Shinzo went back to reading his morning paper.

Despite all that had happened to him, Midorima Shintarō had still retained an enormous capacity to love. Kazunari knew this because he experienced that love first hand and saw it in his husband's interactions with their children.

Kazunari also knew the reason Shin-chan had initially resisted the idea of adopting was because he'd been hurt by his own parents. And yet despite his parents’ monumental failings, Shin-chan was an amazing father to his own children.

Midorima Shintarō didn't hate his parents, though he certainly had cause to do so. He was just avoiding his mother’s calls, limiting their interactions, and keeping them away. Keeping himself from being hurt again.

Shin-chan’s prickly exterior, his standoffish demeanor, were all just a way of keeping people at bay. Keeping himself from getting hurt again. Kazunari knew it wasn't that his husband was uncaring or unfeeling, it was that he cared too much. And once you were bestowed, as Kazunari had been, with the privilege of peeling away all those hardened layers, there was a very small, vulnerable little boy who'd just wanted his parents to love him.

Kazunari hadn't known all that at sixteen, but he'd known it now and the fact that his husband was willing to try again with his parents didn't make him foolish, it made him fearless.

“Mother,” Shintarō said all of a sudden. “Kazunari and I were thinking of taking the children to the pumpkin patch tomorrow. Would you and Father like to join us?”  
  
Sazuna smiled at her son. Pleased with the gracious overture.

"This time next year," Sazuna ventured, because if you gave the woman a centimeter, she took a kilometer. "Keiko will be old enough for shich-go-san. It would be nice," she said. "If we could go to the shrine together as a family."

“Yes.” Shintarō smiled, it was small and shy and tender. “Kazunari and I would like that very much,” he said.

Kazunari reached for his husband’s hand beneath the crisp, white table linen and squeezed it. He was so very proud of Shintarō for the person he became and for the person he’d always been despite all this adversity.

Shin-chan could've easily been embittered at his parents and justifiably so. Kazunari didn’t need anyone to tell him Shin-chan’s parents had done some pretty shitty things to their son. Kazunari had had front row seats for most of it. And while he’d missed the early childhood stuff, he’d been there for the worst of it when his father-in-law, in one of his many bouts of asshattery, had carelessly tossed his son out of the family until he decided not to be gay anymore.  _Of course it didn't work._  For all his supreme intellect, the man was an absolute  _idiot_  sometimes _._     
  
Takao didn't think he'd be able to forgive his parents the way Shin-chan had simply accepted his own, but he admired his husband for his big heart and his willingness to move past some pretty enormous parenting failures.

Every family was different, Kazunari knew that, and while it certainly wasn't the way things were handled in his family, it seemed Shin-chan and his mother had finally reached a truce, some sort of understanding, however many years later.  
  
Kazunari didn't think it would be smooth sailing from here on out, but this little overnight visit had certainly quelled the tempest in his husband’s heart and for that Kazunari was immensely grateful.

The hawkeye was under no illusions that things between Shin-chan and his parents would be hunky-dory from here on out. But an explanation and an apology went a long way towards closure.

* * *

**AN1:**  So I tried to soften the blow by giving you lots of tooth-rotting, candy shop fluff in the beginning. I hope you noticed. This was a tough chapter for me to write so I'm really happy it's over and done with. You can read about Shin-chan's mommy issues throughout the series, but this [ficlet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4664187/chapters/10693472) is where it all began. So originally, Like Dreamers Do was supposed to include bits of KiKasa getting together. Those parts have now been moved to their own fic, [Fools Rush In, Idiots Linger](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4880893/chapters/11190376). Thank you so much for the suggestion because otherwise Dreamers would be a mess right now. The only thing is, I need to come up with a new story summary for Dreamers since the current one no longer makes sense. I think I'll just wait till it's over and write one then. Two more chapters to go and we're done with this story. Hope you're still reading.  

 **AN2:** La, la, la, la I'm in denial. I'm in my happy place rn because wtf was that Extra Game (spoilers obvs) [scene](http://narulen-loves-hikatojima.tumblr.com/post/130924796087/takao-is-jealous-kuroko-no-basket-extra-game) all about? Soooo unnecessary. I did _not_ need to see that (and Kazu certainly did not need to see that) and that's all I've got to say about that. 


	8. Scheduling Conflict or Scheduling Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s fine,” Kazunari assured him, and whether it truly was or wasn’t, he certainly didn’t blame Kuroko.

Kazunari was at a coffee shop with Kuroko near the kindergarten teacher’s school. Meeting up for coffee was something they did from time to time. While they waited their turn in line, the hawkeye was sharing pictures he took of the kids during their recent pumpkin patch outing.

Tired of the hawkeye’s quick run-throughs, Kuroko took the mobile from his friend's hand and starting scrolling through the photos at his own pace. Tetsuya tried to repress a giggle when he saw Midorima-kun dressed down in jeans (of all things) and a button down shirt in an orange plaid that wasn’t doing his distinctive hair-color any favors. He looked like a very long, unhappy carrot.

Shintarō’s outfit was identical to the ones his husband and son were donning in the pictures. Keiko-chan had been wearing the same plaid pattern, but in the form of a smocked dress with a rounded collar. A matching bow in her dark, raven tress, a tiny pearl-button cardigan, black knee high socks, and saddle shoes had completed the look of a very girly little girl.

“This one’s getting blown up and going over the fireplace mantle.” Kazunari informed him as Kuroko paused at a particularly stunning picture of the four of them. The proud fathers were sitting on square bales of hay, each with a happy tot on their lap. The floor of the picture was covered with loose hay and decorated with pumpkins, squashes, and gourds of various sizes and colors.

“How did you even get Midorima-kun to wear that?” he asked curiously because the casual outfit was so out of place with his friend’s usual, moneyed-old-man-meets-tenured-professor wardrobe. Somehow Midorima-kun could even make denim look stuffy.

Kazunari raised a saucy eyebrow. “I’d tell you, but I don’t think you really want to know,” he chortled.  

Kuroko crinkled his nose. “Do all roads lead to Rome with you two?” he asked.

Kazunari laughed even harder at his friend’s accurate observation. “Oh like you and your fiancé are any better,” he playfully retorted.

Kuroko’s breath hitched at Takao-kun’s use of the newly minted title. Kazunari didn’t miss it and he smiled knowingly at his companion.

The hawkeye remembered vividly what it was like, those heady days (even weeks) after Shin-chan had proposed to him and suddenly Kazunari too had had his very own fiancé. He’d felt as if the world had tilted on its axis and nothing would ever be the same again.

Of course, eventually he and Shin-chan resumed their ordinary, daily routine. Just because they’d had a wedding to plan didn’t mean they didn’t have their usual, humdrum squabbles. Quite the contrary, they’d had even more to squabble about in fact, like wedding registries ( _what the heck was an amphora?_ ) and seating charts ( _no way, absolutely under no circumstances can we have a parents’ table_ ).  _No_ , the world had not tilted on its axis the moment Midorima Shintarō had proposed marriage to Takao Kazunari and the hawkeye had very enthusiastically agreed, but in some ways things had changed between them on that auspicious occasion in that cheap diner near their school and their relationship would never be the same.

Perhaps feeling a bit self-conscious, Kuroko cleared his throat, “Are those . . . Midorima's parents?” he asked, sounding surprised to come across pictures of them in the pumpkin patch. With quick fingers, Kuroko zoomed in on what looked very much like an older version of Midorima standing beside a tiny, elegant woman in an expensive kimono. They were each holding a befuddled looking tot. 

"Yeah," Kazunari said, pushing the double stroller forward as the line of customers moved up a bit. "Shin-chan and his parents are trying this new thing now where they're getting along." 

Kuroko raised a skeptical eyebrow at Kazunari’s comment. Takao just smiled and shrugged.

It wasn't really his place to share the details. He knew his husband was an intensely private person and Kuroko was a good friend who understood when not to pry. The pumpkin patch outing had been an olive branch, a gesture of goodwill and reconciliation from Shintarō to his parents that was as hopeful and fragile and tentative as a peace dove.

Still, Kuroko was not uninitiated in the Midorima family drama. He had gotten a small glimpse of it back when Shin-chan had been in med school and had had that awful falling out with his father. Kazunari would forever be grateful to Kuroko and Kagami for having kindly offered them the spare room in their apartment even if in the end he and Shin-chan thankfully didn't have to use it.  

The hawkeye laughed as he looked over Kuroko's shoulder at another picture of his in-laws with the children. Sazuna had asked for a copy of it this morning. Not too long ago this picture would've been unthinkable. Not because they didn’t have other pictures of the children with Midorima’s parents. There were plenty that came before this one, but because once upon a time Shintarō had been on the outs with his parents and once upon a time he and Shin-chan had thought they were going to be a childless couple.

"This one's getting blown up and going above my mother-in-law’s mantle," he told Kuroko with a grin.

It was weird seeing his well-dressed in-laws, sticking out like a couple of sore thumbs, in such a relaxed setting. Keiko-chan was already warming up to Grandma and had been playing with the collar of Sazuna’s pretty kimono, but Kichi-chan had had a wide-eyed expression on his face at the novelty of being held by Grandpa. He looked like he was about to howl which, of course, was exactly what he'd done afterward. But Papa had been quick with the shutter and even quicker with the reassuring hugs.

By now Kazunari had  _plenty_  of experience photographing his tiny tots (he had oodles of memory cards filled with pictures of the kids crowding the desk drawers in his home office) and he was no slouch when it came to capturing that perfect moment. After all, he had dabbled in aerial photography way back when Kise was getting his pilot's license.

Speaking of which, Kazunari glanced at the time on his phone, their friend should've been here by now.

According to Shin-chan, the only thing Ryōta could be counted on was being fashionably late. Kazunari didn't think his husband was terribly fair to their friend. After all, Ryōta could be timely or even early when properly motivated. Kazunari knew exactly what (or who) was motivating Ryōta these days. Considering Kazunari hadn't heard a peep from their loose-lipped friend since they'd all had lunch together a few weeks ago in Ginza, he had no doubts about how Kise was occupying his free time.     

Every once in a while, when their schedules aligned, Kazunari would meet with Kise and Kuroko for coffee. These days, Kazunari was practically a stay at home dad. He worked ten hours a week, if that, and lately (with restless children and shorter naps) he'd been clocking in a lot less time in front of his lap top.

Ryōta was an airline pilot which meant that there were periods where he was stuck in some rural flyover area and other times where he had blocks of free time for days on end.

Kuroko, unlike both of his friends, had fixed, inflexible working hours during the school year. As a result, Kazunari and Kise came to him. 

There was a well-known, global coffee shop chain across the street from the school where Kuroko taught. In exchange for a vat of java and a muffin, Tetsuya could easily bribe one of his fellow overworked teachers to watch his rambunctious class of kindergarteners during recess.

The store was packed to the gills like it always was despite its sky high prices. As usual, it was decked out to the nines in seasonal décor. It was festooned in every autumn motif one could conceive of, from the fall foliage to the plastic gourds to the scarecrow his toddler was eyeing nervously.

Papa took Keiko-chan out of the stroller and she instantly perked up in the safety of Papa’s arms. When it was his turn to walk up to the counter, Kazunari adjusted Keiko-chan on his hip and rattled off his laundry list of drink orders. He and Kuroko were having pumpkin spice lattes (in Kuroko's case there was a splash of vanilla). He also ordered a double shot of espresso (and a pumpkin cream cheese muffin) for Kuroko's beleaguered colleague who could heat up her drink in the teacher’s lounge when Tetsuya got back, and oolong tea for Ryōta who apparently subsisted on air. 

When Kuroko reached for his wallet, Kazunari interceded by grabbing his phone back from his friend and using it to pay with his mobile app.

“Thank you for the food, Takao-kun, but I should be the one treating you today,” Kuroko remarked.

“Nonsense.” Kazunari shook his head at his ridiculous friend. “Today is  _not_  the twenty-first,” he reminded him. “Besides we’re still celebrating your engagement,” he noted with a smile.

Kuroko turned serious at the comment. "I'm sincerely sorry about the date, Takao-kun," he said contritely. "It was really the only day that Akashi-kun could come up from Kyoto."

"That's alright," Kazunari responded. "I'm sure it was just a happy coincidence," he said with a tight smile.

The barista, who was clearly a good person because she was kind to small children, indulged Kazunari's special order for his special girl.

Papa handed Keiko-chan one of those white paper cups with those plastic lids that looked an awful lot like an adult version of a sippy cup. The eight ounce "short" size was meant for espresso drinks, but this one was less than half full and consisted entirely of organic chocolate milk. 

The small cup even had Keiko-chan’s name on it and while the toddler couldn't read yet, she giggled at the quick doodle of a napping cat the nice lady at the cash register had drawn for her on her special cup. Kazunari hoped his daughter would follow the dutiful kitty's example and also take a little snooze like her brother was doing.  

Of course, the kind gesture had the opposite effect. Keiko-chan was even more animated while they waited for their table to be bussed, drinking from her big-girl-cup like all the other patrons surrounding her even if it earned Papa the ire of some judgy onlookers who mistakenly thought he'd given his toddler a caffeinated beverage.  _No really_ , she was boisterous enough on her own, no added sugar or stimulants needed.

Kichi-chan, bless his soul, continued sleeping, unperturbed in the double stroller. Kazunari gingerly adjusted the seat that Keiko-chan had vacated so that the infant could lie flat. He decided to let sleeping babies lie even if it was snack time.

Kazunari and Tetsuya had secured a table at the busy coffee shop, but Kise, true to form, was still running late. The hawkeye had brought a scribbled-on coloring book and a small box of crayons for the children and placed them in front of Keiko-chan at the table.

The hardworking toddler began coloring a picture of a walrus. Papa had bought one of those convenient bistro boxes of cut up fruits, crackers, and bits of cheese. He was feeding grapes to his pipit whenever she deigned to accepted them. For now, though, she was content to chew on her plastic lid and sip on her pretend handcrafted beverage.

Papa snapped a picture of his little girl doodling and texted it to Shin-chan at work with the caption, _( ˘ ³˘)♥_   _Wish you were here, Daddy_.

Shin-chan did not immediately text back and Kazunari supposed his neurosurgeon husband was busy with afternoon consults.

Kuroko's shiny new ring was catching Kazunari's eye. It seemed Kuroko was preferring his left hand lately, using it to make conversational hand gestures and picking up his coffee cup with it. The two of them where talking about engagements.

Taiga had proposed the same Saturday they had all gotten together for lunch at Ginza. When Kuroko had gone down to the fire station to drop off a doggie bag for Taiga afterward, his boyfriend of almost fifteen years had gotten down on one knee in his little fireman's uniform and proposed to him to the rousing cheers of pretty much everyone at the fire station. Tetsuya had been equal parts mortified at the public proposal and happy beyond belief. Okay, maybe it was more of the latter,  _a lot_  more. Even though he had expected Kagami-kun to propose to him after Kagami-kun's father and new stepmother had flown home and Kagami-kun had mended fences with his father during their stay, Kuroko was still overwhelmed by the whole experience.

Kazunari, on the other hand, had been blindsided by his own engagement and made a little joke about Shin-chan having gotten past his hawkeye. "I had been fine with the way things were," he said, and really Kazunari had been. He had long ago come to terms with the fact that he and his then boyfriend would just be that, boyfriends.

"But Shin-chan had other plans. And I honestly wasn't expecting a marriage proposal,  _like ever_." He'd heard of people in their situation adopting their partner to get them on the family registry, but that was  _it_  as far as these types of unions could go.

"And then Shin-chan," Kazu's throat seized unexpectedly and he took a sip of his pumpkin latte. He wasn't sure where all this emotion was coming from. "He did just  _that_." Takao cleared his throat. "Shintarō proposed marriage to me and suddenly it just became this thing I never knew I always wanted." Kazunari took another sip. “I mean, it was important to Shin-chan and so it became important to me."

He kissed the back of Keiko-chan's head in case Papa's little outburst startled her, but the toddler had moved on to the next page of her _Day at the Zoo_ coloring book and was busy coloring a purple panda. "I still don't think marriage is for everyone, but it was definitely for us."

Kuroko and Kagami's nuptials would be in February because one of the grooms couldn't wait to finally tie the knot with his Tiger. They had already asked for time off at work and they had a firm date for the ceremony. This gave the newly engaged couple very little time to plan a wedding abroad. Kazunari knew from planning his own destination wedding, almost single-handedly, that finding a venue on this short notice was nearly impossible. 

The good news was that the grooms had Taiga's mother's ranch house at their disposal. So at least they had that going for them. The bad news was that they had Taiga's mother's ranch house at their disposal. Kagami's parents had not had the most amicable of divorces, to put it mildly. Losing said ranch house (the future site of his son's wedding) in the divorce settlement had been a sore spot for Taiga's father and further curdling already sour relations was the fact that Taiga's father had recently re-married a much younger woman, like  _serious_  young. Like she was only a year or two older than Taiga. Like most people their age, Kagami’s new stepmom was perfectly fine with the concept of different strokes for different folks. And she’d been the one who had broadened Taiga’s father’s narrow horizons.

Kazunari didn't know what it was about the prior generation of parents that made them physically incapable of acting like adults even for the sake of their children. He needed to go no further than his own in-laws to find a perfect example. When circumstances had forced Shin-chan to come out to his parents, they had handled it badly, spectacularly so. Kazunari hoped this was not something that would be passed down to his generation. He honestly couldn't imagine behaving the way Shin-chan's parents had behaved toward their children or the way Kagami's parents seemed incapable of burying the hatchet for Taiga's wedding, even if it was just one night.   

Ryōta arrived toward the tail end of Kuroko’s break, wearing designer sunglasses. And while that wasn't strange in and of itself, he didn't take them off when he sat down.

"We broke up," he announced in a hoarse whisper and then, as if saddened by the news of his own announcement turned on the waterworks. It wasn't, say a single manly tear. Kise, being Kise, this was a deluge accompanied by sobs and wails.

Unsure of what to say, Kazunari pushed the now cold tea towards him.  

Even Keiko-chan raised her tiny eyebrows at Uncle Ryōta and Kazunari couldn't tell whether she was bewildered or taking pointers. He really hoped it wasn't the latter.

Kazunari started gently bouncing the toddler on his lap, a familiar soothing tactic he often employed when the children were upset. It was Papa's way of silently saying Uncle Ryōta was just being a silly goose.  _See?_  He purposely smiled at her to show her everything was a-okay.

Keiko-chan moved her coloring book safely away from the splash zone that was Uncle Ryōta and resumed her doodling adding a pink bow to her panda like the one she was wearing. She evidently took Papa's reassurances at face value and continued scrawling pink lines unperturbed.

“Kurokocchi,” the infant-man wailed. “What am I going to doooooo?” The thunderous emotional outburst garnered the attention of alarmed, nearby patrons who gazed worriedly at the pretty man crying loudly at their table. “I’m going to die aloooooone!”

Entirely too used to the histrionics, Kuroko calmly reached up to pat his former teammate’s glossy blond hair in a  _there, there_  gesture.

"I'm not even sure we were dating,  _officially_.” Ryōta conceded, “But to the extent we were, we're definitely broken up now."

"Are you sure?” Takao ventured into choppy, teary waters. “Cause you two have always had,” he recalled the Kaijō captain’s infamously short fuse, “an  _odd_ relationship."

"What happened, Kise-kun?" Kuroko asked.

Ryōta sniffed, wiping snot on the sleeve of his long-sleeved shirt. “Um, Senpai said, he said, he said. Oh it’s _too_ awful I can’t _bear_ to repeat it.”

“That’s alright,” Kuroko responded. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t –-”

"Um Senpai has a lot going on right now. He says I'm not good for his court-ordered anger management classes." Ryōta had worked himself up into such a state he’d started hiccupping.

" _Well_ ," Takao could see Kasamatsu's logic. Ryōta continued to wail about the sad state of his love life and Kazunari couldn't decide which was worse, the oversharing of bedroom antics or the current pity party of one. 

Unsure of what else to do, Kazunari rubbed Ryōta’s back, something he did with Kichi-chan whenever he was trying to calm the infant down. It seemed to work well on grown men as well because his friend leaned into the touch.

Ryōta removed his sunglasses so he could rest his head on the table and Kazunari didn’t wear makeup but he was frankly impressed by the staying power of Ryōta’s waterproof eyeliner. _How the heck did Kise manage to stay so pretty, even in this state?_

With Kise's head on the table, Kazunari could easily see over the tall blond. He met Kuroko's eyes and shrugged. Kuroko pointed at the non-existent watch on his wrist to indicate he had to get back to his own class of five-year-olds and that Kazunari would have to deal with the grown man acting like a five-year-old at their table on his own.  

Ryōta's sobs where interrupted when his phone unexpectedly rang to the tune of a sappy, romantic ballad. Knowing Ryōta, he didn't mean it ironically, either. 

Despite the aforementioned display of gloom and doom, the blond quickly perked at the sound of the familiar, no doubt singularly assigned ringtone. 

"Senpai!" He trilled. "What do you mean 'what do I want for supper?' I thought you dumped meeee."

Mere seconds later he said, "You did too. When you said I'm not good --" Ryōta stopped to talking.

Kazunari could hear angry yelling, copious use of the word “idiot,” and a few, stray expletives coming from the phone. In response, Ryōta was smiling like a lovesick, handsome dope.

"Is  _that_  what you meant Senpai?” His voice was dripping with honey. “Oh. Well. That's a relief." And just like that, they lost their friend again to his intoxicating, cloying cloud of love.

The thing about Ryōta was that he was ruled by his emotions and so you couldn’t rely on his side of the story because he was incapable of giving a detached, neutral narrative, unencumbered by strong sentiments.

 _Idiot_ , Kazunari mouthed to Kuroko, though the hawkeye was relieved to see his friend smiling again. The kindergarten teacher hid his giggles behind a mittened hand.

Kazunari looked at the time on his phone. He knew Kuroko had to go and so did he. He needed to get to the dry cleaners before they closed. He had to drop off two soiled sweaters and pick up a pair of tuxes, before he could head home to get dinner started. 

As they made their way out of the crowded coffee shop, Kuroko pulled Kazunari aside.

“I’m really sorry about Saturday night, Takao-kun,” he said sincerely.

“It’s fine,” Kazunari assured him, and whether it truly was or wasn’t, he certainly didn’t blame Kuroko. “See you in a few days.”

###

Shintarō came home from the hospital as soon as he could. It was a Saturday and though he was not scheduled to work today and though he loathed leaving the house on  _this_  day of all days, he was a prudent doctor and needed to personally check up on a patient who was post-op and recovering from a complicated surgery in the critical care unit.

He’d examined her vitals, scoured the medical chart, reviewed the results of the new lab work he’d ordered this morning, spoken to the head nurse on duty, and telephoned the family. In the middle of all that he'd gotten a call from the most ridiculous person he had the misfortune of knowing.

"For the last time Idiot, doctors have  _specialties_. I am a neurosurgeon. I am not a chiropractor, I am not a foot doctor and  _no_  I cannot look at your possibly ingrown toenail. And should you ever contract a VD, please do  _not_  call me."

Earlier in the week, Ryōta and Kasamatsu had had a bedroom mishap resulting in Shintarō having been roused from his bed in the wee hours of the morning. It had turned out to be nothing, medically speaking, but needless to say Shintarō was  _not_  eager to hear from either of them so soon.

"Waah!" Ryōta whined. "Midorimacchi's so meee--"

Shintarō hung up the phone. He did not have time for Ryōta's usual theatrics. He had  _actual_  patients to see.

Only after he’d assured himself that he’d done everything humanly possible did he allow himself to leave the medical facility.

He made a brief stop at a familiar shop in Ginza to pick up an item he’d already ordered, before heading home. The store owner, long acquainted with the Midorima family, waited for Shintarō at the curb himself with the delicate package so that his customer did not have to wait.

As Shintarō opened the front door of the penthouse, he was greeted by the sounds of his spouse inexpertly playing the piano, if he could generously call it that. It was more like Kazunari was banging on the keys. Shintarō placed his alligator briefcase on the credenza in the genkan and, package in hand, walked over to the baby grand to investigate the racket.

Through the years, Shintarō had on occasion given his husband private piano lessons -- though they more often than not devolved into other connubial activities. Despite Shintarō’s efforts, the hawkeye had only been able to master a few simple songs, the kind they taught very young children, before their first recital. His skills were good enough to delight Keiko-chan and Kichi-chan with renditions of  _Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star_ , but that was about it. At the moment, the hawkeye was playing jarring nonsense.

"Happy Birthday, Kazu," Shintarō said as he approached his spouse on the bench.

Evidently, Kazunari hadn’t heard him come in over the din of his disjointed notes because he nearly jumped out of his skin. Shintarō hadn’t meant to do it, he was not one for surprises or practical jokes and more importantly, sneaking up on Kazunari was not easy to do given his special ability.

Kazunari blessedly stopped making his husband’s ears bleed and Shintarō presented the birthday boy with a kiss on the lips and a gorgeous bouquet of pale pink peonies, in that order.

"Shin-chan," Kazunari cooed. "They're beautiful."

" _You're_  beautiful." Shintarō corrected him very matter-of-factly. "They're just flowers."

Throughout their marriage, Midorima Shintarō had only ever given his husband pink peonies. Always the same shade and always from the same reputable Ginza florist his mother used. Peonies were regarded as an omen of good fortune and a happy marriage. And so in Shintarō’s mind every other flower paled in comparison because he only ever wanted to give Kazunari these things.

###

" _Oh_ ," Kazunari said, stifling the urge to chuckle at this unexpectedly playful banter.  _It really was his birthday_. Shin-chan would never be described as a smooth talker, but apparently even he had his moments.

More importantly, Kazunari would be a liar-liar-pants-on-fire if he claimed that cheesy line wasn't working on him. Then again, this was Shin-chan he was talking about and Kazunari was partial to his charms,  _all_  of his charms especially his deep, velvety voice. He was so hopelessly enamored with this man, he'd just as easily swoon over Shin-chan reading the phone book.

"The children?" Shintarō inquired when Kazunari had returned from the kitchen, having placed the flowers in an elegant crystal vase and set them on the side table in the living room. The tots usually greeted Daddy at the step preceding the genkan.

Kazunari grinned. "My parents picked them up already,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

Grandma and Grandpa Takao were babysitting (or rather, spoiling) their grandchildren tonight because Daddy and Papa had a very important grow-up function to attend.

Given the date on the calendar, they may have been spoiling their adult son a bit too in showing up extra early to pick up the tots. Though, truth be told, the ordinarily busy Kazunari had found the large penthouse rather lonesome without his kids and had taken to playing the piano (badly) to pass the time until Shin-chan got home.

"I see," Shintarō said, having taken a seat beside Kazunari on the piano bench. "Kazu,” he leaned in closer. “Have you been practicing your finger exercises?"

Kazunari’s face brightened. He couldn’t tell from his spouse’s serious tone whether he was toying with him or not. He decided which way he’d like to interpret the question and ran with it. "Shin-chan," Takao smiled caddishly. "I think you'll need to show me those finger exercises again," he said suggestively. "Shall you demonstrate while I watch?"

Kazunari did  _not_  have a finger fetish.  _Correction_. Kazunari did not have a finger fetish, before Shin-chan. But he could hardly be blamed for having acquired one. He couldn't help it. For all three years of high school, he'd watched the team's ace fuss over his digits. Always protected, always perfectly manicured, the ones on his precious left hand always wrapped in sports tape outside the court. The man had magic hands. He was a basketball phenom, a pianist  _and_  a surgeon. It was inevitable that Kazunari would worship those fingers.

The hawkeye had interpreted his husband’s words perfectly because the tsundere kissed his spouse's very warm, very delectable neck. "I'm sorry about tonight," he murmured against Kazunari’s skin. “I promise to make it up to you,” he hummed, making his way up to Kazunari ear. “We'll go to dinner tomorrow night. Just you and me, or with the kids, or with your family, whoever, whatever you want, Kazu."

Takao pushed Shintarō back. Mostly because it tickled. "Alright, Shin-chan," he said taking his husband up on the offer. "And there's always the after party," he reminded the tsundere.

While their evening plans were set in stone they could always sneak out early and come home and celebrate in private. "And tomorrow morning." He didn’t think his parents would be in any hurry to drop off the children and would most certainly give Kazunari and Shin-chan some time to themselves.

Shintarō smiled at him. "Of course," he said, kissing Kazu on his forehead.

Kazunari pouted a bit. While forehead kisses felt nice, he did  _not_  want a forehead kiss from his spouse right now. They had the house to themselves and he wanted more.

He reached for Shintarō wristwatch. They didn't have a whole lot of time, but they had time before they had to start getting ready for tonight. 

Takao had picked up a pair tuxedos from the cleaners earlier in the week. They were neatly pressed and hanging in the walk-in-closet in the master bedroom waiting to be worn. The hawkeye absolutely adored his husband in formalwear, but was looking forward to seeing him in nothing else first.

Kazunari sidled up closer to his husband on the piano bench until he was practically sitting on top of him.

"Now," he said, "about those finger exercises."

* * *

 

 **AN1:** Thank you kind readers for all the lovely comments last chapter. It was such a treat. Part of the fun of sharing a story is interacting with you. I always love hearing what you think, so please don't be shy. You can always do it anonymous too or send me a note on [tumblr](http://jmetmisc.tumblr.com/) if you prefer. If I've in anyway whetted your appetite for KiKasa, please checkout their story [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4880893/chapters/11190376). And no, Senpai is _not_ beating up on Kise. I promise.

 **AN2:** This chapter was getting so long that I ended up having to break it in two. The bad news is that I still haven't finished writing the second half. The good news is that I should have part two done and posted sometime early this week, barring any catastrophes. I think we can all guess who's going to be making a guest appearance in the next chapter. Still two more chapters to go and then we're done with Dreamers.


	9. Rules of Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shin-chan shows Kazunari they don't have to keep stumbling over the same hurdles.

Shintarō and Kazunari were driving over to Roppongi Hills to celebrate Tetsuya and Taiga's recently announced engagement. It was a reunion of sorts for the soon-to-be-grooms’ family and friends. Included in that latter category were the guys from the fire station, some of the teachers from Tetsuya's school, and just about everyone they had ever played basketball with or against. They would all be there including, of course, Akashi Seijūrō who'd made a special trip up from Kyoto.  _Oh joy_.

Kazunari's stomach sunk a bit at the unmistakable sight of the red Italian sports with the horse emblem and the "Absolute" license plate parked in front of the valet station. Of course Akashi Seijūrō would be there. The hawkeye knew that. Kuroko had told him so. It was the reason they were having this fête tonight of all nights and why Kazunari wasn’t celebrating his thirty-first birthday the way he’d wanted to. One of Akashi’s dearest friends just got engaged and the little emperor was hosting the party. Still, even though Kazunari knew what to expect, that didn't mean the hawkeye wasn't going to feel apprehensive about it.

Takao was  _oh so glad_  the Generation of Miracles’ old captain could make it. It won't be the same without him.   _Really and truly,_   _it just_  wouldn’t. The Rakuzan alumnus had made Kazunari and Shintarō's own engagement party  _quite_  memorable all those years ago. The two things Kazunari remembered the most about that night -- apart from the unfettered happiness he had felt now that he would be marrying his best friend -- were Akashi's speech and the conversation with Aomine.

The thing to keep in mind was that this had been a pre-Satsuki Aomine. And while Daiki would always be boorish, he had been _a lot_  less polished back then when he didn't always have the threat of Momoi kicking him under the table or elbowing him in the ribs for saying the most incredibly asinine things. This was  _before_  Momoi had beaten her childhood friend into a properly socialized adult (the way a skilled artisan takes a jagged, surly, foul-mouthed piece of cheap metal and turns it into something useful like a potpourri bowl or a serving dish). Ultimately, Satsuki decided she liked what she saw and proceeded to marry it, _er_   _him_.

The other thing to keep in mind was that Kazunari’s intended had been a _wee bit_ high-strung (or more so than usual) in the months leading up to their wedding. Aomine hadn't been at Shintarō and Kazunari’s engagement party for very long when he’d encountered the guests of honor. Daiki had already been toying with the collar of his button-down shirt and trying to loosen the uncomfortable noose,  _er_  tie, around his neck. When Aomine’s laidback persona had collided with Shintarō’s neurotic demeanor the sparks flew and they were decidedly green. 

Shin-chan, had had his panties in a bunch because their hand-written, calligraphy invitations had specifically said  _black tie_  and Daiki had shown up to the soiree in a sports coat.  _It has a center vent!_  Shin-chan had clamored while arguing with Daiki over what did and did not constitute the properties of a suitable dinner jacket, then stormed off in a huff leaving his fiancé and childhood friend behind.

 _Are you sure you know what you're getting into?_  the man had asked Kazunari in his usual, bored drawl, upon Midorima’s abrupt departure.

 _Excuse me?_ Takao had asked because even for Daiki that had been crass.  _Seriously, what was wrong with Shin-chan's middle school teammates?_  It hadn’t been the first time that thought had crossed Takao's mind.

An ambitious grad student could easily write a whole encyclopedia on the kiseki no sedai and their hang-ups. And Takao had not been excluding his dear, beloved fiancé from the cabal.  _Oh no, he would readily admit that Shin-chan was not the easiest person to get along with._  He’d known all too well Shin-chan could be found under the lengthy section entitled  _Mommy Issues, but Also Daddy Issues_ , among several other places in this imaginary tome he had long ago conjured up and had been mentally revising for some time -- _Perfectionist Tendencies, Borderline Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Hero Worship of Distant and Uninvolved Father,_ to name a few. Akashi deserved two volumes, one for each of his whackadoo personalities.

Never mind that Daiki’s indelicate question had been posed at a most inopportune time, the night of his and Shintarō's engagement party, it wasn't the first time one of their friends had questioned Takao's sanity.

 _Having Midorima as your ball and chain for the rest of your life? Man that's rough_ , Aomine had scoffed as if he couldn't even imagine a worse fate.

While Takao had found the comment annoying, he didn't take it to heart coming from Aomine who didn't mean anything by it and was just trying to understand their dynamic in his own bull-in-a-china-shop way. It would be like getting mad at a big, dumb animal. And so, the hawkeye had decided to couch his love for Shintarō in terms Aomine would understand.

_You know how Shin-chan works really hard and is obsessed with perfection?_

Daiki had nodded because these were boring facts everyone knew about Midorima.

 _And how even back in middle school, after all you guys stopped trying, he continued to practice his three-point shots every night and played his best at every game no matter how lopsided the matchup?_  

Here, Kazunari had been referring to the time his own middle school team had gotten plowed by Teikō, the one and only time they ever went up against the Generation of Miracles. It had been a spanking courtesy of Midorima Shintarō’s relentless drive to be the very best he could possibly be no matter who the opponent was. That relentless drive had been the reason Kazunari remembered Midorima over all the other frankly unbelievable talent on Teikō’s roster. The three-digit final scoring deficit had been created almost entirely by Midorima’s three-point shots.

Kazunari’s team had lost by over a hundred points and the hawkeye had been so demoralized, he’d almost quit the sport. Ironically, the thing that had made Kazunari hate Midorima Shintarō the most out of all the other shitty Miracles, had also been the reason he’d remembered Shintarō and made it a goal to throw worthy passes at Midorima once he’d discovered they’d be playing on the same team.   

 _Uh-huh,_ the former power forward had started to get that glassy-eyed look like he’d stopped paying attention, but the hawkeye had continued, undeterred. He knew what came next would get the big lug’s attention alright.

_Shin-chan’s relentless and tireless, right?_

_Yeah. What’s your point?_

_Well, what do you think someone like that would be like in bed?_

Aomine's jaw had dropped.  _I knew there had to be something!_  he’d said like a kid who'd just figured out a big puzzle all on his own.  _It’s the killer sex right? I mean why else would you put up with him? It’s the only thing that makes sense. That and he’s loaded, but you don’t strike me as the gold digging type --_

 _Thanks,_  Takao had said dryly though he’d already lost Aomine to his own convoluted thoughts. 

 _\-- though I gotta admit, who would’ve guessed an uptight nerd with a permanent stick up his ass would be a monster in the sack,_ he’d said scratching his chin.

Kazunari snickered as he recalled his conversation with Aomine.

“What are you laughing at?” Shin-chan asked as they waited their turn in a long line of expensive cars near the valet station. The fact that he had omitted the word “fool” from the end of that sentence was proof positive it was Kazunari’s birthday.

“Oh nothing,” the hawkeye said. “Nothing at all.”

Of course, it wasn't just about the sex and Kazunari hadn’t been lying to Aomine when he’d intimated that they had amazing sex. But the physical component of their partnership was just one aspect of a friendship turned romance that had been life altering in so many beautiful ways. Kazunari hadn’t bothered to explain that bit to Daiki. He didn't think Aomine would’ve understood that part. Not back then. Not before Aomine had undergone his own beautiful transformation courtesy of a peppy pink-haired lady.

If his conversation with a pre-Satsuki Aomine hadn't been enough to drive Kazunari to drink copious amounts of alcohol at his own engagement party, Akashi Seijūrō's ensuing “My friendship with Shintarō is Absolute” speech (in which the vertically challenged wannabe emperor invoked  _one_  of the grooms' names approximately fifty-seven times --not that Takao had been counting -- and didn't even mention the other prospective newlywed) certainly did the trick.

Kazunari placed a possessive hand on Midorima’s seated thigh. A clueless Shintarō looked over to him with questioning emerald green eyes. “Is something the matter?” he asked all prim and proper and with formal speech as if not even an hour ago he hadn’t been up close and personal, panting obscenities in Kazunari’s ear.  

The hawkeye laughed. “Nothing’s the matter Shin-chan,” he said, sounding carefree. There was nothing that could be done about his own birthday or tonight’s attendees and there was no point in making Shin-chan feel bad about it. “Let’s enjoy tonight okay?” he said, not sure if he was talking to Shin-chan or himself.

Kazunari watched his husband as the neurosurgeon handed the keys to his luxury sedan to the valet attendant and proceeded to meticulously instruct the man on where he could and could not park it.

The hawkeye was pretty sure from the thinly-veiled look of annoyance on the valet's face, the man was sorely tempted to tell his prickly spouse where  _he_  could park it.

Kazunari locked eyes with the parking attendant. He gave the man that often-dispatched look that said,  _please kindly indulge my eccentric, pain-in-the-ass spouse and I will tip you handsomely for your troubles_.

Then he reached for his husband's arm. "Come along, Shin-chan. You're starting to remind me of your father.” And clearly, Kazunari knew what he was doing because _that_ got Shin-chan’s attention. The tsundere gasped in protest at the unfavorable comparison, because how dare Kazunari insult him with such a slanderous comparison.

"People," Kazunari explained to his beloved spouse on the short walk to the elevators, "don't like to be told how to do their jobs."

The venue for the soiree was Mura-chin's much talked about, swanky new restaurant. The eating establishment was a joint business venture between childhood friends. Atsushi had given his talent and Akashi had provided almost all of the funding. Takao knew from Shin-chan that the only reason Akashi hadn’t provided  _all_  of the seed money was because he’d wanted Atsushi to have some skin in the game. Kazunari and Shin-chan had been there for the grand opening and giving credit where credit was due, it was a rousing success thanks in no small part to Akashi’s infallible business acumen.

The restaurant was called  _Rune_  which sounded exotic and mysterious to everyone but the head chef's close friends who knew it was just short for Nerunerunerune, Atsushi’s favorite candy. In fact, Mura-chin had initially wanted  _that_  to be the restaurant’s name until Akashi had sat him down and patiently explained the virtues of not being sued over intellectual property rights before they’d even opened their doors to the public.

Atsushi had already had a successful bakery in nearby Ebisu named, what else,  _Muro-chin_. If a popular pastry chef had wanted to expand his business, the next logical step would’ve been a café where he could serve croissants and sweetbreads that complemented his culinary background.

It had been Akashi’s idea to branch out into the white tablecloth restaurant market. It was unusual for a pastry chef to head a fine dining establishment, to say the least. And the critics had smelled blood in the water. But when Rune opened its doors it had been to rave reviews and acclamations. At the moment, it was the epitome of haute cuisine.

The concept behind Rune was a posh candy shop where adults could come out and play. The décor alone had a wonderland feel to it with its high-backed, oversized plush velvet chairs, black and white checkered floors, and large, Atsushi-sized gumball machines filled with colorful hard candy.  

The food was decidedly French because this being Roppongi it was de rigueur for the neighborhood. But what really set Rune apart from its many competitors were, naturally, its exceptional deserts and unexpectedly its innovative take on drink mixology. While the restaurant also carried an extensive selection of fine wines and spirits, Atsushi had been able to transfer his love of candy into decidedly adult drinks. The concept was hard liquor meets candy shop sweets. And while at first the two seemed incongruous, Rune had managed to blend them seamlessly. At Rune, you could have cotton candy infused cosmos and blue martinis served with gummy sharks instead of olives. It was fun and new and hip and like nothing else on the market. Tonight, it was also closed for a private function.   

The first person they ran into upon entering the posh restaurant was Kise. The former model looked more handsome in his designer formalwear than anyone had the right to and was seemingly hell bent on getting creases on it. They hadn’t run into Ryōta exactly. It was more like Kazunari had spotted him with his hawkeye furiously making out with Kasamatsu-senpai behind the coat racks.

It was an especially cold night for this time of year (it wasn’t even officially winter yet) and everyone was arriving bundled up in heavy coats.

Kazunari had no intention of interrupting the two, though he did chortle when he overheard his friend. “Yuki- _ow_ ,” the blond had exclaimed, evidently encountering a roadblock in the form of a stray hanger poking his side on his way to seven minutes in heaven.  

Shin-chan and Kazu’s own engagement party had taken place at Shin-chan’s parents’ house in the spring time. It had been outdoors in the frankly impressive traditional Japanese garden and teahouse behind the sprawling manse that had been Shin-chan’s childhood home.

Of course, Kuroko and Kagami couldn’t wait for warmer weather to have their engagement party because they’d be back from their honeymoon before Hanami to which Aomine had joked,  _What’s the rush Tetsu? You knocked up or something?_ And then Daiki’s lovely wife had given her ill-mannered husband a well-deserved elbow to the ribs.  _Damn, Satsuki. It was a joke_ , the police detective had groused.  _Tetsu can’t have babies, he’s a – ouch._

Kazunari understood Kuroko’s eagerness to get to the altar perfectly. After all, he too had been in a rush to marry his best friend.

There was something to be said for marriage. It wasn’t for everyone and not every relationship needed it, but it was definitely for them. Of course, Kazunari had planned to spend the rest of his life with Shin-chan even before the proposal. Still, the word “fiancé” and later “husband” had brought permanency and legitimacy to their relationship in the eyes of others (specifically, Shin-chan’s conservative family) that the term “boyfriend” just didn’t have.

Attitudes were starting to change even in a country as stodgy and behold to tradition as theirs. When Takao got engaged to his Shin-chan, they had had to fly elsewhere to procure a legal marriage. It had taken a team of lawyers and a whole lot of legal rigmarole to get the foreign marriage recognized and get Kazunari listed on the Midorima family registry as a spouse.

Even after all that, they still had precautions in place. There were wills, trusts, deeds, contracts, beneficiary designations, healthcare advocacy forms, and powers of attorney between them to ensure that they were treated as spouses in the eyes of the law. The addition of children to their marriage had added another round of courtroom legwork and an additional layer of paperwork to their relationship. It was a given most couples didn’t even need to think about and at the same time a luxury most couples in  _their_  situation wouldn’t have been able to afford. 

Now that Kuroko and Kagami were getting married, the legal landscape seemed much more promising. Two of Tokyo’s twenty-three wards now recognized same-sex partnerships. It wasn’t the same as a state-sanctioned marriage. It was merely a local ordinance that provided for the issuance of partnership certificates. Couples still had to rely on local business, landlords, and hospitals to recognize their union. Still, it was a much needed step in the right direction. 

Kazunari and his dapper husband walked over to greet the happy couple. While Shin-chan and Kagami talked about of all things, fire trucks (Kichi-chan had recently developed an interest and Shin-chan wanted to bring him to the station after all of the wedding stuff had passed), Kazu and Kuroko chatted among themselves.

“Happy Birthday, Takao-kun,” Kuroko said giving his friend a hug. “We brought you a present,” he said, handing the hawkeye a short, rectangular birthday card. “It’s a gift card for Hamster Hoedown,” he said. “We know you like the place and figured the kids would be happy too.”

“Thank you so much,” Kazunari said sincerely, hugging his friend again before tucking the little card into the jetted besom pocket of his dinner jacket.   

"So," Kazunari said to Kuroko. "I'm not even going to ask how the wedding planning is going cause I'm sure you've been answering that question all night and you're probably sick of it.” Kuroko smiled wearily. Kazunari laughed, he knew his friend well. "But if you need help with anything, wedding or otherwise, you've got my number.”

The hawkeye grinned widely at his friend. This was a  _most_  happy occasion and a long overdue one. “I'm sure I can dust off that seating chart Shin-chan and I made for our nuptials," he said with a teasing glint. He and Shintarō had spent  _months_  on the darn thing because when a good chunk of your guest list consisted of the kiseki no sedai and their friends, ex-friends, rivals, ex-rivals, lovers, ex-lovers, and acquaintances (and there was significant overlap between those categories), there was bound to be more than a bit of drama. In the end, they needn't have bothered, everyone ignored the carefully prepared and beautifully displayed placecards, sat wherever they wanted (or were  _not_ wanted) and let the sparks fly.

Kazu, always conscious of his surroundings, couldn’t help but notice that Taiga kept tugging on his clip on bowtie and he wasn’t sure whether the pre-tied bow itself or the fidgeting were annoying Shin-chan more.

Perhaps it was the growing intensity of Midorima’s glare that made Kagami step back. But in doing so, the redhead stepped on the back of his fiancé’s rented, patented leather shoe.

“Sorry, Tetsu,” he said turning around and taking hold of Kuroko’s elbow. “I didn’t see you there.” Kuroko rolled his eyes at the circumstances because what were the chances of him having no presence at his own engagement party.

Kazunari chortled loudly because not detecting Kuroko on and off the court had been a long running joke among their group for years.

Shintarō rested a hand on Kazunari’s shaking-with-laughter shoulder. “I’m getting a drink,” he told him. “Could I get you something?”

“Sure, Shin-chan,” Takao said, wiping a tear from his eye. “The one with the ring-shaped lollypop at the bottom of the glass.”

Shintarō nodded and head towards the purple bar that looked like giant strips of ribbon candy encased in glass.

There was no shortage of waiters carrying silver trays of hors d'oeuvres and offering them to the smartly dressed crowd.

When one of the waiters approached the trio, Kagami set his glass of champagne down and relieved the man of his tray.

Kuroko silently judged his soon to be husband.

“What?” Taiga said defensively as he stuffed mini beef wellington slider after mini beef welling slider into his pie hole. “I’m hungry and I’d have to eat 20 of these to make up for a single Maji burger.”

Kuroko rolled his eyes and then Kagami got a worried look on his face. “We’re still stopping at Maji Burger afterwards, right Testu? You promised.”

Whether the lovebirds would conclude their evening at Maji Burger was left up in the air for Kazunari because his pocked started to buzz. He fished the phone out of his trousers and looked at the screen. "Ah. I've got to take this," he said his friends. He smiled apologetically to Kuroko who waved him off. He was a kindergarten teacher and was used to interrupted conversations.

"Hey mom," Kazunari said, putting a finger over his ear. His connection was terrible and there was a chamber orchestra playing soft background music and so Kazunari headed towards the cloakroom so he could hear her better. "Of course she'd say that,” he said with a chuckle. “Put her on."

Kazunari and Shintarō had said goodnight to the children through their car’s sound system on the way over. But their daughter had woken up less than an hour later. Takao shifted the phone to his other ear and instantly his voice grew softer. "Keiko-chan," he said. "Why aren’t you sleeping?" 

He was glad to see Ryōta and his date had either finished up or taken their amorous activities elsewhere.

“I miss you too, honey,” he said. “But you should be in bed --– You’re thirsty? Tell Grandma to get you a drink of water.”

There was a bit of sleepy whining from his toddler on the other end of the line.

“You want to talk to Daddy? Okay, but first put Grandma on the phone.”

Kazunari explained to his mother that Keiko-chan had been waking up at night lately asking for a hug, or a trip to the bathroom, or water, or a story. It was a delay tactic to stay up a bit longer, of course, but Papa was quite indulgent when it came to the tots (and when it came to his husband, to be honest). He told his mother he would get Shin-chan and they would call back together so they could put their daughter to bed.

Kazunari called his husband next, but got no response. He noticed Shin-chan’s overcoat hanging on one the racks. He reached into the flap pocket and realized Shin-chan had left his phone.

When Kazunari re-entered the restaurant in search of his husband, he noticed Shin-chan wasn’t with Kuroko and Kagami who were now talking to Satsuki and Daiki.     

His hawkeye spotted his husband still at the bar. It also spotted a certain heterochromatic redhead. The two of them were engaged in casual conversation, two longtime friends relaxing over drinks. All their conflicts, all their past slights, that soul-crushing game they’d played against each other where Akashi had refused to shake Shintarō’s hand afterward seemed to have been long laid to rest. It was as if none of it had occurred.

Akashi was sipping on red wine, while Shintarō took his whiskey straight. The ring-candy drink Kazunari had asked for stood between them on the bar top, long forgotten. Something Shintarō said made Akashi laugh, made his unusual eyes sparkle. Shintarō took a sip of his whiskey to hide his amusement.

 _Not this again._ Kazunari’s smile faltered, his heart started to sink.  _It was his birthday and why the fuck was this happening?_  

Kazunari recalled Aomine’s words from long ago about his former captain.  _His eyes are the only thing ‘hetero’ about Akashi_ , he’d once quipped. To which Kuroko had politely informed his former light that it was nice knowing him because Akashi-kun was surely going to murder him in his sleep, most likely with a pair of scissors. Whether Aomine's joke could be taken at face value or not, the hawkeye didn't know. Akashi was immensely private in all matters, especially his love life. All he knew was that he hated this feeling. He hated the sight in front of him. Kazunari gazed at the lonely martini glass again, sorely tempted to take his drink and throw it at his husband.

He took a deep breath and headed towards the candy-decorated bar. He’d promised their daughter Daddy was going to bid her goodnight and he was going to accomplish that even if he felt like strangling Keiko’s Daddy at the moment. 

Kazunari’s head was swirling with ugly emotions. It was the night they gotten locked out on the terrace all over again.

“Akashi,” Kazunari greeted the short man curtly.

The smile on Akashi’s face widened as if he was pleased to be discovered. Kazunari knew Akashi could see him coming a kilometer away. The emperor eye was quite impressive, after all. Still, Akashi pretended to be surprised to see him there.

“Shintarō,” Kazunari said and his husband was legitimately surprised at being addressed by his first name instead of the usual, childish nickname.

Kazunari had his husband’s phone in his hand and he wanted to fling it at the man’s head. Instead he placed it on the bar top between Shintarō and his friend. “Your daughter would like to speak with you,” he said, intent on delivering the message and getting the hell out of there. This wasn’t over, _not by a long shot_. They were going to have it out on the car ride home, but for now he just needed to get the fuck away from the situation because if he stayed a minute longer, Midorima was going to be wearing that martini glass on his head like a hat.  

Kazunari had every intention of storming off. But then Shintarō did something entirely unexpected. He reached for Kazunari's hand and pulled his husband back towards him.  _In front of Akashi._  In Shintarō’s seated position, he and Kazunari were almost at eye level. "Stay," he said simply and Kazunari felt his feet cement themselves to the floor, felt his heart jackhammering inside his chest.

Shintarō did not let go of his hand, even though Kazunari showed no signs of leaving. In fact, he doubled down on the gesture and laced his long, elegant fingers between Kazunari’s until their palms touched.

It was one thing for Kazunari to reach for Shintarō in public because everyone knew the hawkeye was affectionate and flirty and didn’t care for things like propriety or personal boundaries. In fact, Kazunari felt comfortable enough to occasionally engage in PDAs in front of Kise or Kuroko or Kagami or their sisters. It was quite another for Midorima Shintarō to do it. And even more shocking for him to do it  _in front of Akashi_. 

Whether the little emperor was unnerved by Shintarō's uncharacteristic demonstration of affection, he certainly wouldn't have stooped so low as to show it. Then again, he'd always been _much_ better than Kazunari at keeping his emotions in check.

He simply smiled, wished Kazunari "the highest felicitations on this the day of your birth" -- whatever the fuck that meant -- excused himself politely and walked away.

**###**

They returned together to the cloak room to make a phone call. Shin-chan was trying to persuade their daughter to fall back asleep and hummed a few stanzas of  _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_  at her request in the midst of the negotiation process. Kazunari smiled. It was clear who the apple of Shintarō’s emerald green eye was. Shin-chan was  _so_  wrapped around their little girl’s finger, it wasn’t even funny.

Kazunari still felt warmth in his right hand where Shintarō had held it. When Shin-chan had ended the call, Kazunari reached up on tipped toes and kissed the side of his very tall, very handsome husband's face.

"Hey Shin-chan." he said. And sounding every bit the love-struck fool he was, he added, "That thing you did back there at the bar." Kazunari was referring to the hand-holding. "That was nice, I really liked it."

Shintarō allowed the tiniest of smiles to grace his lips as he gazed down at his husband. "Idiot," he said fondly. "Do you think I'm incapable of learning lessons?" 

Kazunari beamed. "Is that why you did it?"

Shintarō examined the phone in his hand for no other reason than perhaps it was easier to speak about these things this way. "I think your concerns are entirely without foundation," he said referring to that ugly incident a few months back when Kazunari had jumped to conclusions about Shintarō and Akashi. "But if it is reassurance you need. I can provide you with that." 

The hand hold had been a simple gesture, but for someone as traditional and conservative and reserved as Shintarō it had been no small thing. In all their years together it had certainly never happened in front of Akashi. 

Kazunari felt that if his husband could learn a lesson from that ugly experience out on their terrace where Kazunari had lost his temper and Shin-chan had literally lost his pants, then maybe he too should consider moving past it as well.

The hawkeye thought about what it took for Shin-chan to be romantically affectionate in public and grinned goofily at his spouse. _No one else_ , he concluded. There was no one else Shintarō would do this for, but him. "Admit it, Shin-chan. You're crazy about me. Just say it."

Shintarō said no such thing. Instead, he leaned down and whispered in his husband's ear. "You're an idiot, but you're  _my_  idiot. And those two things are not unrelated."

Kazunari beamed because in Midorima-speak Shin-chan was practically whispering sweet nothings in his lover's ear. "Let's try this again," Kazunari said as he interlaced their fingers once more. 

When they walked back into the restaurant together, the orchestra began playing the birthday song.

Shintarō pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, but he did  _not_  let go of his husband's hand.

And then Atsushi came out of the kitchen carrying a very elaborate, multi-tiered birthday cake topped off with sparklers. Suddenly, the whole room began singing happy birthday to Kazunari.

The hawkeye looked up at Shintarō who didn't look the least bit surprised. " _You_   _knew_ about this?" he asked. 

"You didn't honestly think we'd overlook your birthday, did you?"

Kazunari smiled sheepishly. He squeezed Shintarō’s left hand and said, "Let's go home early and celebrate. Just the two of us." 

###

Shintarō and Kazunari came home to a dark, quiet penthouse. The only source of light were the sparkly ones from the city skyline framed by their floor-to-ceiling windows.

Shintarō removed Kazunari’s overcoat, hung it in the closet in the genkan and then did the same thing with his own. He took off his patent-leather cap-toe balmorals next and placed them in the built-in shoe cubby. Kazunari watched with single-minded interest as his husband peeled off his leather driving gloves and placed them on the credenza alongside his wallet and keys. The phone he kept with him in case Kazunari’s parents called, leaving it behind in his coat pocket earlier had been a careless oversight.

“It’s still your birthday,” he said as they both stood in socks and tuxedos on the step preceding the genkan. “What would you like to do with the rest of it?”

Kazunari reached for Shintarō’s lapels, using them as leverage as he pulled himself up on his tipped toes to kiss his very tall husband on the lips. “Come,” he said as he laced his fingers in between Shintarō’s (echoing his husband’s earlier display of affection) and led the man by the hand.

It was dark and quiet in the empty penthouse, but there was enough light from the nearby buildings for Kazunari to lead Shintarō safely. The days when one could travel along familiar, unilluminated corridors without fear of stepping on a stray building block or stumbling over doll furniture were long gone.

“Your office?” Shintarō asked. He clearly hadn’t expected to be taken here.

Kazunari walked in first, then pulled his husband by the forearms. “I thought we’d break in my new present,” he said.

The large leather chesterfield had been Shintarō’s birthday present to Kazunari, even though it had arrived several weeks early and Kazunari was already making use of it. It was there to replace the prior sofa Kazunari had had in his home office which met its tragic end when a sippy cup of watered down grape juice had indelibly stained its persimmon fibers.

Once upon a time, they used to give each other gifts from the UFO catcher or from that trinket store where Shin-chan had bought a good many of his lucky items. Nowadays, they gave each other furniture and bestowed upon their two-and-a-half-year-old a very expensive chandelier. 

"Sit," Shintarō said in his deep velvet baritone and Kazunari's knees practically buckled as he sat at the center of the chesterfield because this was  _exactly_  what Kazunari wanted, for Shintarō to take over. 

Kazunari closed his eyes to ground himself only to have Shintarō say, “Look at me.”

Suddenly Kazunari’s eyes were transfixed on his husband’s like a moth to a flame, unable to look away, and then his jaw dropped because he could  _not_  believe Shintarō was going to actually do this.   

Before Shin-chan, Kazunari had stupidly thought that all tuxedos were the same, essentially penguin suits, indistinguishable from one another.  _Boy had he been wrong._  

He’d learned that the difference between black tie and white tie went far beyond the color of one’s neckwear. And there were so many choices when it came to dinner jackets, dress shirts, trousers, even footwear it was overwhelming. About the only thing Kazunari had already known was that Shintarō was tall and fit and cut a handsome figure in a tuxedo.

Midorima Shintarō was a dyed in the wool traditionalist when it came to menswear and formalwear was the area where he was perhaps the most inflexible. While Kazunari preferred a more modern take on what had been the gold standard in men’s dinner attire for over a century, Shintarō wouldn’t be seen with him if he’d opted for something as unsightly as a colored cummerbund  _like a cheap prom date_. Those had been Shin-chan’s words.

Kazunari had worn a necktie he’d tied himself in a simple four-in-hand knot tonight because he thought bowties were ill-suited for him. They were old-fashioned and truth-be-told he’d have to get Shin-chan to tie it for him. But he loved the look of his husband in a tuxedo bowtie and loved the short, untied strip of black silk now hanging from his husband’s gorgeous neck even more.

“A gentleman,” Shintarō told his captive audience of one, “never removes his dinner jacket.” He said this even though most of their friends had removed theirs and draped them over the backs of their chairs when it got too hot at the restaurant or when they’d decided to cut a rug.

Kazunari nodded dumbly as Shintarō proceeded to cast off his dinner jacket now that they were alone and in the quiet sanctuary of their home. He removed his single-breasted, peaked-lapel wool jacket, exposing his silk, single-breasted, evening waistcoat underneath.

The hawkeye swallowed thickly because Shin-chan was actually going to go through with it.

Kazunari stared in stunned silence even though he knew what came next. He watched as Shintarō unbuttoned the tab at the bottom of his waistcoat that fastened the fine garment to the back of his wool trousers. He then removed the waistcoat studs followed by the waistcoat itself.

Most tuxedos required button-on suspenders for the trousers to stay put, but Shintarō had a trim midriff and a very good tailor.

Shintarō placed the studs on the glass overlay of Kazunari’s desk, before proceeding to remove the onyx cufflinks on the French sleeves of his turndown-collar dinner shirt. He placed the cufflinks next to the studs with a soft click.

He met Kazunari’s eyes and held his gaze as he proceeded to remove each one of his shirt studs placing them, one at a time, on the desk as well.   

Shintarō unfastened the button on the inside of his trouser waistband before removing his dress shirt and then his trousers.

Kazunari searched emerald green eyes and there wasn’t a trace of embarrassment in them, there was heat and there was hunger, but none of the shyness that had accompanied their earlier encounters, back when they were young and inexperienced and had so much to learn about each other.  

Shintarō was down to his boxers, black silk socks and sock garters. Kazunari was panting his breaths. Before Shin-chan, Kazunari hadn’t even known sock garters existed. And now – - he couldn’t look away. There was something so masculine about the way they wrapped around Shin-chan’s shapely calf muscles and how they beckoned Kazunari’s eyes to long, alabaster legs.

Shintarō removed the rest of it and Kazunari saw trust. Holy hell was there trust because there was no one else Shin-chan would do this for. Kazunari knew that deep in his bones.  _And who knew trust could be sexy as fuck?_ Kazunari certainly did.  He’d learned that lesson long ago.

Shintarō knelt on the floor in front of him, rested his hands on Kazunari’s knees.  _Fuck, he was gorgeous_. Pale as moonbeams and completely naked save for his thick, black frames. How could Kazunari not spread his thighs at the silent suggestion?

He kissed his lips and when that kiss ended, he started anew until Kazunari’s mouth was plump and loved bitten and a lovely shade of carmine. He rested a hand on the side of Kazunari’s face, his thumb brushing against his husband’s jaw, the tips of his fingers resting behind the hawkeye’s ear. With the other, he loosed the man’s tie, unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt, creating enough space for his hand to meet the warm pulse of his lover’s neck. Kazunari leaned his head to side, inviting soft lips to the sensitive juncture where his neck met his shoulder. Kazunari beckoned and Shintarō followed.

He was sighing softly at Shintarō’s neck kisses, at the graze of Shintarō’s ear against his jaw, at the softness of silky verdant strands brushing against the side of his face. And then the hawkeye was arching his back off the seat cushions in a not so subtle gesture. Shintarō leaned back, paused to admire the breathtaking tableau of a fervent Kazunari. Their eyes met and Shintarō smiled knowingly at his husband’s familiar impatience. He kissed his lips one last time and then he got down to business.   

Shintarō pushed Kazunari’s cummerbund up and created just enough of an opening in the man’s already tented trousers.  _Fuck._  

Kazunari rested his head on the chesterfield and thought that maybe the kids' artwork proudly displayed on the walls of his home office were not the best thing to focus his eyes on at the moment and then he hissed, feeling the warm, wet seduction of Shintarō's mouth engulfing him and then he didn't think of much else except how soft Shin-chan's hair felt between his fingers and how incredibly gifted the man's tongue, his mouth, his lips, the barely there scrape of his teeth were as they lavished him, worshiped him, worked him into a fevered state of frenzy.

Shintarō groaned, deep and low, around Kazunari suggesting that taking pleasure in this activity was a two-way street. He continued his slow torture of Kazunari until the hawkeye was a whimpering mess.

And then Shintarō was nudging him to move forward a bit so he could get better access. Kazunari smiled. Shin-chan knew him so well. While the tight, wet suction of being in Shintarō's mouth felt amazing, the hawkeye needed something more. He needed, wanted, craved the pressure of Shin-chan's fingers as well.

Despite having taken his dear sweet time discarding his own garments, Shintarō removed Kazunari’s silk-striped trousers, black boxer briefs, and socks all in one go. Kazu gazed half-lidded and love-addled at Shin-chan as the man placed the hawkeye’s bare ankles over his broad shoulders.

His husband deposited his left index and middle fingers into Kazunari’s mouth to moisten them. Two digits weren't nearly enough of an opening to accommodate Shintarō, that would come later, but it was enough to give the hawkeye what he needed and then -- _Fuck, just like that Shin-chan, don't stop_.

Kazunari was a greedy, greedy man because after his husband had taken him to oblivion, he wanted more. He wanted Shintarō to take him to their bed, to unravel him from the inside out and Shin-chan did just that leaving behind a pried apart tuxedo and parts of another on the floor of Kazunari’s home office.

###

After they'd showered together and gotten ready for bed, Kazunari found an envelope resting on his pillow. 

"Aww, Shin-chan," he gushed. "You got me a birthday card?"

"It's not a birthday card," the tsundere scoffed, buttoning the top of his flannel pajamas. "It's a gift."

Kazunari gasped dramatically. "But you already got me a present," he said. In fact, Kazunari had spent a most enjoyable time sitting on said present.

"There's no rule that says I can't give my husband more than one gift on his birthday."  

Kazunari smiled because Shin-chan was being oh so very sweet right now even if he was using that bossy tone of his. And then the tsundere followed that statement with, "Go on, idiot. Open it. We don't have all night." 

"What's this?" Kazunari asked. 

" _Open it_ ," Shintarō said impatiently. 

Kazunari lifted the tucked in flap of the heavy cotton, business sized envelope. " _Oh_ ," he gasped, this time for real, covering his mouth with one hand as he took out the purple and gold squares of perforated paper.

"Shin-chan. You got us courtside tickets to the Lakers game?!" There were four of them to be precise. "Are we taking the kids?" 

"We're taking the grooms. It's part of our wedding present to them." 

Kazunari looked at the date on the tickets, they were the day before the rehearsal dinner. Taiga was going to flip, he’d grown up idolizing this team. "How did you even get these?" he asked.

Shintarō looked at his husband funny. "The way everyone gets their tickets. You call the concierge number on the back of the credit card." 

"Wait. That's a thing?"

Shintarō looked at his husband as if he’d just crash landed on their bed from Mars, as if to say,  _how could you possibly grow up not knowing that?_ And sometimes it did feel like they were from different planets.

Kazunari laughed. "You are ridiculous and I love you," he said smiling fondly. "And  _those_  are not unrelated things."

"Idiot," Shintarō said taking the tickets back and putting them into the envelope. He walked over to the walk-in-closet and stuffed the envelope in his sock drawer for now, tomorrow he’d put them in the safe where they kept all their important documents.

And then because he was inexplicably curious, he broached the topic with Kazunari when he returned, "How do you buy tickets?"

"I stand in line with everyone else." 

"Idiot."

They both got into their large bed and even though there was plenty of space, the tsundere made room for Kazunari to rest his head on Shintarō’s shoulder. Once the hawkeye had settled in, Shintarō wrapped his arm around him kissing dark raven locks. 

The hawkeye smiled smugly at the affectionate gesture. Right now, he was in bed with Shin-chan surrounded by soft clean bedding (Shintarō always insisted on changing the sheets afterwards), he'd been thoroughly sated by Shin-chan  _twice_  after the party (and thrice if you counted their pre-party powwow on the piano bench) and Akashi was across town alone in his penthouse. Or maybe he wasn't. Maybe he'd persuaded someone to accompany him. Kazunari had briefly seen him talking to a terrified, shaking-in-his-trousers Furihata as he and Shin-chan had snuck out of the party.

The hawkeye didn't care. He was in bed (in  _their_ bed) with  _his_  Shin-chan and that was all that mattered.  Whatever Akashi's intentions were, Kazunari had had a _great_  birthday. And at the end of the day, the person Shintarō came home to was  _him_.

"Shin-chan," he said sleepily recalling his conversation with Aomine at his and Shin-chan’s engagement party all those years ago. He didn’t regret it. Not for a minute. "I'm happy I married you," he said seemingly apropos of nothing.

The tired little hawk lifted his head briefly off Shintarō's shoulder to give the man a quick smooch on the lips.

"Happy birthday, Kazu," the tsundere responded with his deep, rumbly voice, a soft smile gracing his lips. And  _indeed_ , the hawkeye thought, thirty-one had been a  _happy_  birthday. 

* * *

 

 **AN1:**  Yes, tuxedo strip-tease porn. I went there. Clearly, I have no shame or sense of propriety. Who knew this stuff was so complicated to take off. I hope you appreciated it Kazu, this was my b-day present to you. It wasn’t easy. Thank you [Miyuli](http://miyuli.tumblr.com/post/130276959454/ive-been-studying-the-classic-black-tie-dress) for your helpful black tie style guide. I spent hours ogling over your drawings and would’ve been completely lost without them.

 **AN2:** Oh goodness, this is the second 7,000 plus word chapter I’ve written for Dreamers. I don't know what it is about this story, but I seem to have a lot to say lately. One more chapter to go. Woot. 


	10. City of Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kazunari woke up to a kiss just below his navel.

Kazunari woke up to a kiss just below his navel. He smiled sleepily.

“Morning Shin-chan,” he croaked, not bothering to open his eyes just yet, as he ran his fingers through Shintarō’s soft hair –- he’d fully expected to find a nightcap, but was pleased to discover it was already gone -- and then his husband placed another kiss, this time lower, and then another.

And then  _oh_ , it really was going to be a good morning.  

###

They met up with Kazunari's family and the children at the Garden Terrace restaurant in Minato. Kazunari had wanted to celebrate the day after his birthday with a leisurely family brunch.

The hotel itself was probably Kazunari’s favorite in the city. It was built a few years before the 1964 Olympics in a sleek, stylish, modernist design. Shintarō preferred traditional Japanese architecture, but Kazunari adored the facilities' futuristic look, or at least, what the future had been envisioned as in the 1960s. Sadly, the facilities were starting to show their age and would soon be undergoing a major face lift for the upcoming 2020 Olympics, losing much of the hotel's time-capsule charm.

Over the years, Shintarō and Kazunari had celebrated important birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, and the passing of Shintarō’s boards on these grounds. It had been the first hotel they'd stayed at, on their own, as a couple, and it had been a contender for the site of their wedding, losing out only to Shintarō's parents' home garden. The Midorima family garden had, in turn, become the site of their engagement party instead, taking a backseat to a Southern European vineyard after they'd finally decided on a destination wedding. 

Every Sunday, the hotel hosted a brunch on the ground floor of the main building. It boasted a delicious, mouthwatering spread of Eastern and Western dishes. The smorgasbord was divvied up into different stations with uniformed chefs manning most of them. At its center was an elaborate ice sculpture. Today’s sculpture was in the shape of a giant crane. It wasn't the best brunch in the city, by far, but Kazunari liked it and that was enough for Shintarō.

The tsundere had called ahead and made reservations. By the time he and his husband arrived, only slightly behind schedule, their family had already been seated. Shintarō did not miss the knowing, teasing look on his sister-in-law's smug face . . . and on the faces of Kazunari's parents. Shintarō blushed. Seriously, what was  _wrong_  with his husband's side of the family. 

Their table was located at the back of the brightly lit room in front of the large windows that overlooked Japanese gardens and a lovely waterfall. While all the tables had small arrangements of fresh-cut chrysanthemums, the centerpiece at their table was the only one made up of pale pink peonies, much like the ones that were sitting in a vase at home. Kazunari looked over his shoulder, grinned delightedly at his thoughtful husband. “Nice touch,” he whispered into Shintarō’s ear.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shintarō said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. And then he blushed in earnest when his cheeky spouse snuck his hand over the back pocket of Shintarō’s herringbone tweed trousers and gave his derrière a quick but firm squeeze. “Did you just grab my --” Kazunari laughed delightedly.

There was no shortage of hands and laps to hold the children and evidently his in-laws had declined the offer of high chairs since the children were sitting on Grandma and Grandpa's laps. As soon as the children's fathers approached the table, the children threw their arms out to them. Shintarō kissed the baby on his head and then took hold of Keiko-chan who nuzzled Daddy affectionately.

Kazunari picked up the baby who was emitting happy squeaks and showing Papa a pair of reading glasses his doting grandpa was letting him play with. When Shin-chan had held Kichi-chan for the first time, the then three-month-old tot had been fascinated by his father’s glasses. And Shin-chan, who hadn’t a clue what to do with a baby back then, had actually given them to him.

“Let’s hand these back to Grandpa before they break like Daddy’s did,” Kazunari told the baby as he gingerly took the wire-framed glasses out of Kichi-chan’s hands and gave them back to his father.

“Hey,” Kazunari’s father said to his son as he put his reading glasses back on, “What do you call a deer without eyes?”

“I don’t know, what?”

“No idea,” he said cracking up at his own joke. Get it, “No- _i-dea_ ,”

Kazunari smiled as he shook his head at his incorrigible father, “Nice one, Papa.”

Shintarō greeted his mother-in-law with a perfectly executed, respectful low bow that would've made his old etiquette teacher proud. It was especially impressive considering he was carrying a clingy toddler.

"Oh, pish posh," Kazunari’s mother said, taking advantage of the low bow and pulling her tall son-in-law by the neck in an awkward hug. "What's with all this formality?" she asked planting a loud kiss on his check and running her fingers through her lovely granddaughter’s hair. "We're family," she said patting his face affectionately and giving him a warm smile. Shintarō pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose once she'd released him from her impressive choke hold.  

"And there he is,” she said, opening her arms widely for her son. “There's my baby boy." Kazunari had seen his parents just yesterday when they had come over to the penthouse to pick up their grandchildren, but you wouldn't know it by the way his mother was fussing over him, and of course Kazunari reverted back to infancy when he was around her. Shintarō was only mildly surprised his grown-ass husband didn't sit on his mother's lap, like both parties clearly wanted to. "Thirty-one years ago,  _yesterday_ ,” she declared. “The _happiest_ day of my life."

A miffed Kazumi cleared her throat.  

"And of course, I was also the happiest when you were born, Darling," she said patting her daughter's pouty cheek, obviously accustomed to playing peacemaker. "I was the happiest when each of you was born," she announced.  

Shintarō fared no better in the PDA-department with his father-in-law who hugged him and patted him on the back, looking genuinely pleased to see him. “Hey Doc,” the man said to Shintarō, taking advantage of the captive audience. “What do you call a bladder infection?”

 _Urinary tract infection_ , Shintarō thought as he adopted a deer in the headlights look. He was not a person who enjoyed jokes. He _especially_ disliked puns. He just didn’t get them.

Kazunari’s father thumped Shintarō on the back, “I stumped you huh, Doc?” Shintarō pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He did that _a lot_ around Kazunari’s parents.

His father-in-law leaned in. “Urine trouble. Get it? _urine_ trouble,” he said cracking up.

The Takao siblings – entirely used to their father’s terrible jokes – groaned in unison.

Their mother, who’d been smitten enough with the corny man to marry him, snickered discretely. “Papa’s been waiting to share that joke with you all morning,” she told Shintarō. 

Kazunari’s father had made it a point to come up with doctor jokes ever since Shintarō had enrolled in medical school. Shintarō _really_ wished the man wouldn’t bother.

“Oh that reminds me, dear,” the matriarch of the Takao clan turned her attention to her son-in-law. Shintarō sat ramrod straight beside her because he knew what was coming next. Kazunari’s mother had a tendency to overshare. Like the terrible jokes, the oversharing only got worse when Shintarō began studying medicine.

“The other day,” she said. “I was talking to my friend Tanizaki-san. You know Tanizaki -san?”

Shintarō nodded because his amicable mother-in-law had buckets of friends and he’d met a number of old hens throughout the years.

“Well, she said something funny. She said that her husband placed his coffee mug on the roof of his car and then drove all the way to –” her stories were also very long winded – “Can you imagine? Naturally, I started to laugh and then I tinkled a little.”

Shintarō turned beet red. He knew it was coming, the TMI, but it always seemed to catch him off guard.

“Do you think I should see someone? Would you mind taking a look dear?”

Shintarō choked on air. “I’m sure there’s someone I could recommend,” he said tersely.  

The woman beamed at him and Shintarō could see where his husband got his alluring smile and his pretty eyes.

The adults took turns visiting the buffet stations, making sure at least one person stayed behind with the children because taking a toddler and an infant within reaching distance of all that food and all those sauces was a recipe for disaster. 

Apparently the no-longer-birthday-boy had worked up an appetite this morning considering this was his fourth trip to the buffet stations. In Kazunari's defense, they'd only had hors d'oeuvres at last night's fête and had left shortly after the birthday cake.

When Shintarō and Kazunari returned to the table, Grandpa was playing a game with Kichi-chan wherein he'd hide behind his napkin only to reveal himself to the happy peals of infant laughter. It was apparently the height of hilarity because their son was having a rousing good time.  

Aunt Kazumi was sitting beside the pair, playing cat’s cradle with Keiko-chan on her lap. A handsome young waiter approached her to top off her bottomless mimosa.

"Excuse me young man,” her father said, calling out to the waiter. “Are you seeing anyone?"

" _Daaaaad_ ," Kazumi said doing a terrible impersonation of a ventriloquist.

"What? I’m simply trying to make polite conversation," he noted trying to sound all innocent.

"I know what you're trying to dooooo," Kazumi said under her breath, "and you should stooop it," she hissed.

The young man in question stood smiling awkwardly between them. Unsure of what to do with the glass pitcher in his hand, he set it down on the table. Evidently he was waiting to see if he’d get a date out of this.

"What's so wrong with a father wanting to see his little girl happy and settled huh?"

Shintarō couldn’t blame the man for trying. Kazumi had been living in sweatpants, consuming ice cream by the pint, and watching makeover shows for months now. His sister-in-law had always been a bit of a train wreck. The tsundere had seen better decision making by short-lived, minor characters in horror flicks. Still, his in-laws weren’t usually this heavy handed. Desperate times, he supposed, called for desperate measures.   

Kazunari swooped in to save his little sister. “Ignore our Papa,” he told the apparently disappointed waiter. “The old man’s getting senile in his old age,” he said with a laugh. With that the young man took his leave, only to come back again because he’d forgotten his pitcher, but after that though, he left for good.

Noticing, for the first time, how upset he’d made his daughter, the elder Takao said, “Oh honey, don’t be mad at Papa.”  

“ _No_. You are _not_ allowed to play matchmaker.” Kazumi told her father in a huff. "You were embarrassing _me_."

“Embarrassing you? I just want to see my baby settled down and happy with a nice, handsome, strapping young man like your brother has,” he said putting an arm around Shintarō’s shoulder. Once again, Shintarō’s index finger made a beeline for the bridge of his nose.  

“Oh Papa,” Kazumi whined.

“Grandpa is Aunt Kazumi and my Papa,” Kazunari explained to a confused Keiko-chan who giggled as if her father had said something very silly. “No,” she chortled. "Papa," she said pointing to Kazunari. The children clearly did not understand genealogy.

###

It had been weeks since Kazunari had taken the kids down to the tot lot at the park near their home. The weather had just been too nippy for the fun slide and the swings and the little horsey on a spring that Kichi-chan loved so much. It was the reason Grandma Midorima had gifted the infant a rocking horse for his nursery.

The children had not been able to comfortably play outside, but being the resourceful Papa that he was, Kazunari had found a suitable alternative.

They were on their way to an indoor kids’ gym, one Papa had found by consulting the experts, the local mommy blog. It was needless to say that "PapaHawk21/11" with his handsome profile pic and two adorable tots had a  _lot_  of followers and some of them were very helpful.

The kids' gym had come highly recommended. This being a weekday, Shin-chan was naturally at work and so Kazunari made a quick pit stop in Shibuya to pick up a friend. While Uncle Ryōta's evenings were spoken for these days, he certainly had a lot of time on his hands during business hours. 

"When was the last time you flew?" Kazunari asked, because Ryōta had been practically grounded lately. 

"Ah," Ryōta beamed at his friend for noticing. "Two weeks," he said. 

" _Two weeks?_ " Kazunari tried not to sound alarmed.

Ryōta smiled knowingly. "Don't worry about me, Takaocchi. I've still got a few modeling jobs and I fly when I want to and lately, I've been feeling _domestic_ ," he added with a wide grin.

Ryōta's modeling career was not what it had been in its heyday at Kaijō. Modeling years were even less forgiving than dog years and Ryōta was definitely past his prime, even if he looked pretty damn amazing and was much hotter than most 20-year-olds.

Fortunately, Ryōta had retained a fiercely loyal, mostly female fan base. Some might even describe them as rabid. And so there was still demand for Ryōta's face on billboards and magazine ads even if the covers were now graced by younger, fresh-faced golden boys. Kazunari had recently seen his friend's handsome mug in a new perfume campaign while he perused the fashion rags waiting in the checkout line at the gourmet market near the penthouse. Kazunari had made an emergency run to pick up finely aged Gouda for his prima donna princess (and  _no_ , he was not referring to his daughter).

"So things are good?" Takao asked, wanting to assure himself because with Kise things weren't always what they looked like.

"Things are  _very_  good, Takaocchi."

"Alright," Takao said and the conversation came to its natural conclusion when Kazunari parked his car at the public lot across from their destination.

The gym was on the ground floor of what looked like a repurposed brick warehouse. As promised it was clean and had ample space for kids to run around. Keiko-chan could hardly wait for Papa to remove her saddle shoes so she too could go sprinting.

There was a ball pit and a padded obstacle course, and even a trampoline built into part of the floor. The kids were much too young to go on the trampoline by themselves without getting,  _well_  trampled. So Papa and Uncle Ryōta each took a tot and started bouncing on the springy surface.

"More," Keiko-chan giggled, clearly wanting Uncle Ryōta to jump higher.

Kazunari was holding the baby who was making happy little squeals.

Papa, who otherwise would've been doing back flips, was bobbing on the balls of his feet very gingerly. He was being mindful that Kichi-chan had just had a bottle and Papa was all too cognizant of the fact that he was carrying an infant with a belly full of milk.

It was all fun and games until Keiko-chan was suddenly struck with a potty emergency.

The good thing about places that catered to children was that there were always family-style restrooms available. It seemed like such a simple thing, but having only a men’s room available to them could prove to be quite an obstacle for a family like theirs. For one thing, men’s rooms were usually not equipped with changing tables and there were times, when they weren’t with one of their mothers or sisters, that either he or Shin-chan had to cover their daughters' eyes and rush her past the urinals and into the privacy of a stall. It was something they’d never thought about before they became parents.  

When Kazunari returned from the restroom with Keiko-chan, he noticed Satsuki had arrived with Dai-chan and was talking to Ryōta who was standing in front of the ball pit watching Kichi-chan.  

Kichi-chan began trying to stuff a germy plastic ball into his mouth and Uncle Ryōta quickly dove into the ball pit to intervene.

“Aunt Satsuki and Dai-chan are here,” Kazunari said to Keiko. 

“Aunt Momoi! _”_ Keiko-chan squealed excitedly into Papa’s now ringing ear. _Aunt Momoi_ was an obvious misnomer. Satsuki had taken the Aomine name, although like Kazunari, she did not use it professionally. The children called her “Aunt Momoi,” because “Aunt Satsuki” was _a lot_ harder to pronounce.

Dai-chan had been born on Shin-chan’s birthday and so Satsuki had been on maternity leave until September 1st. She was now on childcare leave and would remain on it until next August when she returned to work as a financial analyst.

“Kazu-kun, Keiko-chan,” the bubbly bombshell greeted the both of them with a one-armed hug. “I was just telling Daiki the other day, we hardly got to see you and Midorin at the party. You left too early.” She propped up a fussy Dai-chan on her hip. “I’m sure you were in a hurry to celebrate at home,” she teased.  

Keiko-chan was fascinated by the pink-haired baby and Kazunari leaned closer to Satsuki so his toddler could grab a socked foot. “Keiko-chan say hello to Dai-chan,” he told his daughter.

The infant was staring back at them with a pair of wide awake, inquisitive blue eyes.  

Keiko-chan tugged on Dai-chan’s sock. The four-month-old kicked and Keiko-chan giggled delightedly in response.

Kazunari was looking forward to more of these outings as Dai-chan got older and he and his mother settled into a normal sleep cycle. The biggest impediment to scheduling these playdates was that Dai-chan did not sleep through the night. As it was, the infant had not given his parents much rest since he was born. When the Aomines were at their breaking point, they would drop off little Dai-chan at either grandparent’s house just so they could get some much needed sleep.

Kazunari had read in one of Shin-chan’s child development books that it took some children up to a year to learn to sleep through the night. As it was, Dai-chan was almost five months old and showing no signs of being so inclined. Kazunari was not a cruel man and so he was not going to break to the news to Dai-chan's mother.

Kichi-chan had been three months old and Keiko-chan had been 17 months when they had brought their children home and though there had been a brief period of adjustment to the new environment, their children were both sound sleepers. It was a blessing and even though nap times of late had not been long enough for Papa’s liking or conducive to his writing schedule, he was grateful for the seven to eight hours of uninterrupted sleep his got most nights.  

Kazunari noticed Satsuki eyeing the trampoline. Here he said, “I’ll take him.” Kazunari took hold of Dai-chan, much to Keiko-chan’s delight. She began petting the baby as Papa balanced them on each arm. Dai-chan was much heavier than the last time Kazunari had held him.

Satsuki wasted no time bounding to the black, polypropylene surface. The new mother jumped on the trampoline, giggling like a schoolgirl even as her ample bouncing bosom proved quite the distraction to some of the fathers and all of the male employees.

###

It was a lazy Saturday morning and the four of them were in Papa’s home office. The family didn't usually congregate in Kazunari's work space, but Papa had been booking their airline tickets for Uncle Tetsuya and Uncle Taiga’s wedding.

Evidently Kazunari had been taking his sweet time because Shintarō had gotten tired of waiting for his husband to finish and decided to bring the children in there with him. 

"Yes, but I'm just not sure that he's old enough."

"Shin-chan, he's the ring bearer, not the best man." _Honestly_ , Kazunari did not see what the big deal was.

"What if he cries? What if he's uncomfortable with all those people staring at him?"

Keiko-chan was going to be the flower girl in Uncle Tetsuya and Uncle Taiga's wedding. Neither one of her fathers was worried about their little ham wilting under the spotlight. Her brother, however, was a different story. 

"If he gets nervous, one of us will walk with him down the aisle." Kazunari smiled fondly at his worrywart little frog. "Shin-chan, he's our baby. It'll be cute no matter what he does," he said with absolute certainty. 

Earlier, Shin-chan had tried to get their 17-month-old to practice walking across Papa's home office while holding a throw pillow. He'd dropped the pillow twice, then flung it at Daddy on his third try, before Shin-chan had decided to call it a day.  

"I don't know Kazu. I just think that it's a lot of pressure to put on someone so young."

"Shin-chan. The wedding's three months away. That gives us  _plenty_  of time to practice with him."

There was no shortage of toys in Papa's home office and Shin-chan had moved on from ring-bearer-training to more productive activities. He was sitting on the floor, his back propped up against Kazunari’s birthday-present couch, helping the baby stack building blocks, something he used to do with Shuzuko when she was that age.

The baby was emitting happy little squeaks as Daddy stacked color-coordinated blocks on top of one another for Kichi-chan to knock down. That seemed to be the part their baby liked best. 

Kazunari was actually purchasing two sets of plane tickets. The first set was for the four of them. Even though Kichi-chan was still under two and therefore young enough to fly for free on a parent's lap, they'd decided to buy him a ticket anyway since they were bringing the car seats with them regardless and neither one of them was keen on carry the infant during the span of a ten-hour flight.

The second set of tickets were for Kazunari's family. His parents were flying in a few days later. They would be sightseeing and babysitting the children during the bachelor party and the basketball game. Grandma and Grandpa Takao would also be picking up the tots from the wedding reception early so that their fathers didn't have to leave so soon and would be able to sleep in the following morning. Kazumi was tagging along because her brother had said so.

This was going to be the children's first experience with air travel. The four of them were supposed to have traveled together to the Maldives earlier this year, but thanks to a hiccup at the passport office (the clerk had no idea how to handle adoption papers bearing the names of two fathers), the children's passports were  _not_  issued in time for their trip to the Maldives, even though they had paid the expedited charges. As a result, the kiddos had stayed behind with Kazunari's parents.

It had been a blessing in disguise, really. A bumpy plane ride in a glorified cylinder tube with wings had ended in an emergency landing and the jetsam of all their luggage. The whole awful experience would've been even more terrifying if the children had been on board.

Their lawyers had taken care of the whole mishap at the government office and the children's passports had been mailed to them by the time Shintarō and Kazunari had gotten back from the Maldives. 

This would also be the first time he and Shin-chan would be traveling under the same surname. Shin-chan had been annoyed with Kazunari when he’d learned at the airport that the hawkeye hadn't gotten around to changing the name on his passport in time for their trip to the Maldives. To be fair, Shin-chan had sprung the travel plans on his husband and Kazunari frankly hadn't even thought to have his passport reissued since he hadn't known about any upcoming, international trips.

The hawkeye had already changed his drivers' license and all of his credit cards to his married name. About the only thing he didn't change was his business cards and the byline on his sports column because he was  _not_  changing his name professionally.

The fact that Kazunari had taken his name was important to Shin-chan. The hawkeye knew this and part of him thought it was very sweet of Shin-chan. Still, he didn't think Shin-chan would've been nearly so eager had the shoe been on the other foot.  

Kise had offered to get them an employee discount for the flights on his airline, but Shin-chan had flat out refused. He could think of few things more painful than a transpacific flight sitting next to that, “Bubblehead blond. A root canal would be easier to endure than that idiot Ryōta.”

Something about Daddy's disparagement of Uncle Ryōta had made Kichi-chan giggle. It was either Daddy's inflection or his stuffy, formal speech since the infant was far too young to understand the meaning behind Daddy's curt words.

Kazunari grinned at his computer screen upon hearing his son's gleeful chortles. There were few sounds he loved more than his children's laughter. It was delicious. 

Kichi-chan had taken the plastic block he was chewing on out of his mouth and babbled back at Shintarō a string of incomprehensible baby talk that ended with the syllable "Da."

Takao immediately looked in the direction of his husband and son because he knew what was coming next and he didn't want to miss it. "Da" was Kichi-chan's word for "Daddy" and Shin-chan's favorite syllable. It never failed to make the tsundere beam.

Shin-chan stopped mid-rant to smile at his son and the baby looked up at Daddy with complete and utter adoration in those kitten-gray eyes. It was a look that was mirrored on Shintarō's own face. Kazunari's only regret was that he didn't have his phone handy so he could capture that picture perfect moment. It wasn't the first time he'd seen it, but he'd never get tired of this sight. 

"What if he tries to eat the rings?" Shintarō asked, trying to sound normal dispute the fact he was practically melting under his son and husband's smitten gazes. 

"That's why, they're not using Nigō," Kazunari said also trying to sound normal because he knew he was making Shin-chan self-conscious.

Reluctantly, the hawkeye re-directed his gaze to the task at hand only to discover that the toddler on his lap had navigated away from the airline ticket confirmation page and onto a click ad for polycarbonate suitcases.

Having taken full advantage of Papa's temporary distraction, Keiko-chan was happily banging away on her father's laptop despite knowing (or because) she was not supposed to touch it. The toddler's fingernails had been painted a pretty shade of pink using a non-toxic children's polish that peeled right off when it dried. It was part of a dress up set Aunt Satsuki had given to her for her birthday.

Consequently, some of the keys on Papa's keyboard were now speckled in a pretty shade of pink. Kazunari hoped it too could be peeled off.

Kazunari tried to get back to the page he’d been on, but there was a reason you weren’t supposed to hit the “refresh” button or navigate away from the page while purchasing tickets. _Well_ , there was no helping it. He’d have to start the online ticket purchasing process anew.

Just then he noticed a black and gold object peeking out from beneath his ergonomic keyboard. Kazunari had straightened up his office the day after his birthday, he’d gathered up the tuxes and had even dropped them off at the cleaners, but evidently he’d left a straggler. He picked up Shintarō’s onyx cufflink.

He looked back at Shin-chan, meeting his husband’s eyes with a sly grin and wordlessly tossed the piece of jewelry back to its owner. Shintarō caught it. Of course he did. And then he placed it in his trouser pocket for safekeeping.

Kazunari laughed when he caught the tinge of rose on Shintarō's cheeks. “Thank you for my birthday present,” he said and meant it.

Shintarō pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Don’t mention it.”

Kazunari went back to re-inputting travel information for all of his passengers.  

"They should use the dog as an understudy," Shintarō suggested. Evidently, he was still concerned about their son.   

Early on in the nuptial planning sessions, the grooms had toyed with the idea of having Nigō carry the rings. The idea was nixed for many reasons, chief among them was that the dog might ingest the circular symbols of their love and  _no one_  wanted the unhappy task of supervising the pup's bathroom breaks until the proverbial goose laid its golden eggs.

Instead, Nigō would be walking Kuroko down the aisle in his dapper doggie bowtie leash that the Sixth Man had found online. It had already been shipped to him and Kuroko had had the pup model it for Kazunari when he and the children had popped in for a quick visit on the way home from the indoor playground.

Kuroko would also be choosing the attire for Keiko-chan and Kichi-chan and the rest of the wedding party. Kazunari hoped that his friend would order the outfits from somewhere other than the site that sold the Shūtoku dog jerseys. They were already starting to fray from the frequent washings.  

"He's not going to eat the rings," Takao assured his spouse, even as their son picked up the doughnut-shaped breakfast cereal Daddy had been using as stand-ins for the rings off the floor and put them in his mouth. Perhaps food hadn't been the best substitute. 

###

Ryōta was seated in the row behind them in the first class cabin and Midorima had never been happier than at that moment for having the foresight to purchase noise canceling headphones.

“It turns out both airlines have reciprocity,” the bubbly blond explained to Kazunari, leaning over the wide leather seat. “I was able to trade in my ticket so I could be on your flight,” he said cheerfully.

###

Although their plane had landed on time and they’d cleared customs without incident (notwithstanding Ryōta’s avocado beauty mask), they waited and waited at the luggage carousel.

Ryōta's luggage had come out first, all _seven_ pieces (Shintarō was convinced it was airline cronyism). Followed by Kazunari's and the children's suitcases and the double stroller. Shintarō's baggage, however, was nowhere to be found. 

Kazunari secured a pair of jet lagged, slumbering children into the double stroller.

Ryōta, being in the biz, went to go speak to an airline representative at the counter. An officious young man in a neatly pressed uniform and a clip board came over to Shintarō and his family. 

"Midorima-san," he said to the only one among them who wasn't standing next to his luggage. “We’re sorry, sir. It seems your suitcase was crushed by a 747 out on the ramp.”

“Crushed?”

“Yes, Sir. You’ll be pleased to learn there was minimal damage to the jetliner. Here is an airline voucher.”

Shintarō looked at the printed paper he’d just been handed. “This doesn’t even cover the cost of my suitcase.” It was hardly enough for a meal at a decent restaurant.

“Thank you for flying with us sir. Please come again,” he said cheerfully then headed back to the counter.  

"Damn it," Shintarō said as they loaded a pair of car seats and the suitcases that had made it safely onto several luggage carts.

Kazunari rubbed his husband's hand. "It's alright Shin-chan. You've got your carry-on and your tux is in my garment bag. We can always go clothes shopping."

Ryōta's eyes sparkled at the prospect. "Great idea, Takaocchi. We’ll head to Rodeo Dr --" 

Midorima was in a foul mood. He had no patience left for Ryōta's nonsense _on a good day_ and cut the man off. "Kuroko and Kagami's wedding present was in my portmanteau," he said of the now likely pulverized tickets. 

"Don't worry Shin-chan," Takao said. "I already got them a wedding present."

"You did?" 

"Yeah. I told Kuroko we’d take Nigō back to Tokyo with us." The pup would also be staying with them at their penthouse for the duration of the honeymoon. As much as Kagami and Kuroko loved their dog, they were  _not_  going to take him on their Polynesian honeymoon.   

After the wedding, the seven of them (the four of them plus Takao's parents and Kazumi) would be embarking on a Golden State family road trip. _Well_ , it was actually going to be nine of them since Ryōta and Nigō would be joining them. Kazunari would let Shin-chan figure out the part about Ryōta and Nigō on his own. No sense ruining the surprise.

The hawkeye had already reserved a van for their road trip that was roomy enough to accommodate all of them and a trailer for their luggage. Ryōta was going to have to send some of his suitcases back with Kasamatsu, who would be arriving just before the wedding and flying out the next day, because there was no way they could fit all of Ryōta’s baggage.

Kazunari had a rough sketch of their itinerary in his head, although traveling with young children (and  _this_  many people, plus a dog) meant they were going to have to keep it flexible and take it day by day.

He was planning on visiting a certain theme park with a famous mouse and while Shin-chan had pointed out that they had the same theme park at home and Kazunari hadn't taken the children there yet because he was waiting for them to be a little older, there was no point in missing out on taking them to this one since they were already here.

There were also three major metropolitan areas on Kazunari's itinerary (one with a golden gate bridge and a reputation for fine dining), a forest of redwoods, and to cap it all off world-famous vineyards he'd wanted to visit.

“Shin-chan, what are you doing?”

“Calling the credit card concierge. We need him to reissue the basketball tickets and make reservations at the nearest dog kennel.”

“Eh?”   

* * *

  **AN1:**  Ah, I feel bad for Shin-chan. Stuck in a rented van on a road trip with his three favorite peeps: Kazumi, Ryōta and Nigō. I don't know how he'll survive all this “togetherness.” And _no_ , none of those dad jokes are mine. I had to scour the internet until I found scene appropriate ones. See why I hardly ever include Kazunari’s parents in the series? They’re so hard to write.  

 **AN2:**  That's it for Dreamers. Thank you so much for reading my fic and for comments and kudos. Somehow my little series has grown to over 200K words. I can hardly believe it. Thanks for all the encouragement. XD I'm still filling out prompts for my sorely neglected [prompt list](http://jmetmisc.tumblr.com/prompts-and-fills). When I'm done with all those, they'll be posted in chronological order in [All You Need Is Love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4664187/chapters/10693472). For now, they are being posted on my [tumblr](http://jmetmisc.tumblr.com/), so please follow if you'd like to read them ahead of time. 


End file.
